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I've got a man who thinks a lot of me. My presence seems to warm his artsy heart. When in abyssal doom and gloom is he, My image shows its face and does its part. So I've become a useful tool for him, A character endowed upon his stage: I play my role until the sun goes dim And then turn back to words upon a page. My place is not inscribed in history, Except in adulation from his pen! My whole life thus becomes a mystery Of little consequence to learnéd men! How lucky for this one it has transpired, To be by famous poet thus admired! |
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ntheon
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RE: Sonnet 29 on April 15, 2010
sarahalyse
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RE: Sonnet 29 on February 03, 2010
