All English Sonnets
I happy happy like a fiddle fit,
Pirouette and to the beat of pleasure hum,
And throw my arms around you to submit,
To hurting hugs. And now that you have come,
No harm to tell of loathsome agonies ,
Which tortured and tormented your beloved:
To see the mynas kissing on the trees,
And I so lonesome – unkissed and unloved,
To write the letters filled with ironies,
Of circumstances, tear them up and blink,
The tears away to hide the miseries,
Lest you may not so cowardly me think.
But nestled in your arms, I admit
I don’t remember pain – not a bit.