And now here's today's sonnet I'm writing
Thursday evening, Indian Summer, alone
Carla will be here soon, I'm expecting
In the meantime, here I am writing on
In my head it's the 70's I'm in
A time that has long gone, and beers been downed
A lot has happened recently, it's fun
If you're not married or personally drowned
At least, that's what I have personally found
What is the point of endlessly being
Tied to one person, listening to their moans
A pound of flesh, they can't have it, that pound
I'll keep it with mine, though time is passing
Each day's precious, I'll keep them for my own
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