Love Sonnick* No. 9
There ne’er hath been a chaste lady so fair
As thee, my true love with long, ebon hair;
Thy laugh so charming, thy smile disarming
And bounteous breasts – heigh-ho, what a pair.
Thou smote me post-dusk with lexical feats,
Reciting rich odes of Shelley and Keats;
Deliciously blithe with shapely limbs lithe
Expertly unfurled, forsooth, ‘tween the sheets.
Livid eyes like marble from Carrara
Shineth as bright as a jeweled tiara;
Our passions well deep, I felleth to weep
When thou sayeth to me: Sayonara.
Despondence my sad companion ‘til when
I findeth new flames for Love Sonnick 10.
*A sonnet/limerick mash-up