I Swear They Called It Saturday, AND, Go Say I'm Eighty: I'll Swear It's True

[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