If you, by chance read my sonnet precise
then do a favour , do not criticise
my crass attempt ,for its a given right
to shout and accuse with morbid delight
come midnight I sit numbly on thy chair
while you stand ramrod straight do not despair!
I come bearing gifts and treasures glimpsed seldom
The gems of minds and heirlooms of kingdoms!
Round gather the children, hands stretched out free
Scramble not, fret not ,cry not - patience be!
Enough there be and still more to cometh
Forget not to come by day to my hearth
In solitude, in longingness I wait
For thy merry spirit and soothing gait
To whence have you been? To whence will you go?
My fair, reclusive cheerful one who blows.
Return you must every night at this hour
Air Cons spoilt and I am nocturnal owl.
