24th February 2014

Sonnet 99

If we're not in the mood - who should we chide?

Pheromones of attraction lose their smells,

Twenty-five years kill a man's pride,

When one  vessel is where his sex drive dwells,

And to what end since my mooncycle died?*

This golden band's got too small for the hand

I use to tweezer laydee facial hair;

Those digital scales where I take my stand

Occasionally... let's not go there - despair.

Wedding favours - sweet buttonholes we both

Wore: pink for a bride, white for you, our breath

Pressed flat in loveslip petals , hothous'd growth,

No vengeful cankers can eat them to death,

Kiss kiss me, I'm the flower you want to see...

Wild wildflower  fantasy, that's me and thee


*Appears to be the odd one out in what is a fifteen line sonnet.