Cheeky Missy
He Quipped \"Do You EVER Go Home?\" with I Guess I\'m Drowning, Likeas Wont, and then What Can I Say?
..for hours, I guess, kind friend.
He Quipped \"Do You Ever Go Home?!\"
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMDCCCLXXVI)
The buttermilk I\'d sought for that detail
Of aebleskivers now on sale, ah whence?
They\'re long gone. What\'s the point? Bought it fr\'intents
To find the funky pancakes will, to scale,
Suffice in lieu of those plans, til I fail
On all counts, is\'t? I\'m ne\'er good \'nough, a sense
I canna pin down \'spite all, cheeky hence
As erst wont, draws me forward like there\'s bail.
He said it is a \"girl thing,\" which as t\'were
Despite all odds, believes that \"we can do
This, yes we can!\" and he likes that in her.
In me? I\'m just their sister; yet tis true.
And t\'other drives me bonkers. LORD, bestir
Us to be faithful in all, and see You.
21Sep24a
I Guess I\'m Drowning, Likeas Wont
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMDCCCLXXVII)
No yellow jackets to harass me, hence
Why\'d I ne app\'tite Friday to avail
Me of the food I\'d packed, which, sans aught bail,
Lo, made me late to werk? Shall grief be thence
The culprit for such ills? I have defense.
My bank account does not where that detail
Of scams is\'t? and caprice cause me to fail,
Mine en\'mies stronger than me til, LORD, whence?
How yellow egg yolk spilled all oer in poor
Excuse on Wens\'day whilst I ate, late too
In my container thanks to skipping fer
The day much food \'cept salad, crackers to
Effect on Friday. What\'s my problem? Were
There hope, tis only Thee. LORD, I need You.
21Sep24b
What Can I Say?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMDCCCLXXVIII)
These are the hours I\'ve sought likeas t\'avail
My soul, rain\'s voice, in falling softly, dense
With freighted import as faint breezes hence
Waft fragile chill akin t\'a mother\'s frail
Yet cool touch on the fevered brow, th\'exhale
Lade wi\' sweet calm none breaks whilst sparrows thence
Chirp gaily at brief intervals for sense,
Grey, mournful light as pensive as I\'d hail.
They swear I do not \"have a life\" in tour
Because I\'d rather nestle here, where through
The hours those pitter-patter footfalls stir
Me as lo, yonder beckons. Ere I knew
What t\'was I\'d hearken to its subtle, pure
Call, if oh LORD my God, I might hear You.
22Sep24