Revised sonnet #420
If it is strange to eye and idolise
My love I reckon shell acquaint and cope
Im small enough a pain to slash to size
My hands in hover stuck theyd rather grope
If shes away a week I feel at noose in rope
Im free of fickle friends those really rile
I savour whiskey lees I puff toke dope
I let the dishes dirty rise in pile
Ive left the friend zone just the little while
I didnt condescend or double cross
I didnt bully her or whisper bile
Theyd snub me seen Id shrug at verbal loss
I never stand too close and lewdly loom
I study her as she erases gloom
Chorus loom crowd obscure
