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

—Rick Blum

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