Sonnet #2 

You are not the first woman I’ve upset, nor will you be last

To look past flaws as they amass is no task without burden

I write what I write without your will to watch me disturbing

Or try, in due time I suppose it will not  have an impact

Sometimes music grows tedious and silence is my preference

This lay of the land I would not design had I foreseen it

Now’s the time if what’s divine had once thought of intervening

Sometimes silence grows tedious and music is my preference

Words, meanings, interpretations of various gradations

Everything is continuation, History nags us Now

When everything is considered calculation, count me out

The line between art and reality – slim separation

The temptation to blur further this distinction enticed me

Peering over my shoulder you’re bound to see the unsightly
  
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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