Revised sonnet #343
The love of loves is sweet as saccharine
Hes calm and quiet a sentimental soul
He yields to me in guffaw gasp and grin
I view him victim stuck in placid loll
He complements as were two semis whole
Two modest mortals who are bumped about
Young veterans on punches we just roll
He lacks a line in sarcasm lame to lout
Ill fish him free in face of certain rout
Its good to grow tired yawn at same old crap
Tea pots and cups our rite they dampen doubt
The journey jostle justifies our nap
Hes such a pretty boy in nature fluke
A bulls eye bullied me Im mid and kook
Chorus fluke blessing quirk
