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All English Sonnets


When I was a teenager, Mama said,
“You always make me happy with your talks
Of which you seem to have incessant stock
But who is going to earn our daily bread-

My talk was full of reveries and dreams,
And apparently impossible schemes,
And all the castles in my crowded head.
In mama’s nature golden thread.

She smiled at all our pranks unsurprised,
She never dreams dreaded, never criticized.
And unawares of what was lying ahead,
I plunged in wild endeavors, recklessly.

To tackle our penury seriously,
But now that I have won, she is dead.

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