[again].
I Swear They Called It Saturday
(sonnet # MMMMMMMMDCCCXXIX)
Rain waltzes in and out, the skies t\'avail
Likeas dear Autumn\'s wont, a painting hence
For art to cherish, ah, if only thence
The field weren\'t so debauched that each detail
Erst loved was not a trifle lacking bail
\'Cept e\'il could triumph therein. Sparrows fence
The golden warmth which shadows laze in dense
With naught, by cheery cries in sweet all hail.
What of the nightmares ere I rose? They were
Half true, was that? Washed last night\'s dishes, to
Craft omelets, pancakes, bacon, like the tour
Of minutes could suffice, and oh! I knew
Time was half short, but wherefore was\'t sae poor?
Oh LORD, redeem me now. I wait on You.
17Aug24a
...if only it means I kin die.
Go Say I\'m Eighty; I\'ll Swear Tis True
(sonnet # MMMMMMMMDCCCXXXI)
I\'m sipping Dove hot cocoa, wishing hence,
Until it makes me sick, for that detail
Called \"yesterday.\" I see it like t\'avail
But from afar, the vision culled fr\'intents
Frae, yes, MY lines on that day, til I thence
Am ill with futile longing. Oh! I fail.
For Daddy\'s long gone home with Christ, the trail
To yonder lit, but out of sight. Come, whence?
Oh me! Why does the time hang heavy? Were
There reason to continue here, what to
Effect is that? My life is oer. This tour
Of duty is a farce. I never knew
It\'d be so false and ver\'ly hollow. Stir
Hope in the LORD, yet what here?? I need You.
17Aug24b