For my muse, Joanie 9/3-07.

Sonnet I - For Joanie


With equal pleasure, equal pain
We together embark on our trip
We plant our words, and then reap the grain
Of the Holy Grail we do sip

My little muse, as I am hers
Love to flaunt her energic talents
Yet she is not shallow, that is not her curse
She is untemporary and without any balance

Litte sanguine, melancholy mistress
Romantic and mad, she is like an arrow piercing
Still as honest as any ragged seamstress
When she speaks, she speaks so fiercing

Sometimes I sense her voice laced with contempt
When her nature is abused, when she is not content

Sonnet by Fleurette
Read 804 times
Written on 2007-08-31 at 18:44

Tags Friend  Comrade  She 

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