BEATS OF LOVE
112. This by Me
This
an aborted sonnet, akin to the fickle fragility of childhood friendship
tossing words about boisterously in sheer fun,
then bawling loudly for Mum
once this fighting starts
across this mental plane
in a translucent ocean wave
Suddenly, after a big cheery splash,
everything is unruffled, calm on the page even
and I think, something's amiss, I must've plagiarised this
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