Dearest Juliet
Dearest Juliet
Twenty years tis tomorrow
Yet no word smith to shape my pencil's mouth
As I drank your letter's gall to no quench
And grew roses on our Love's hearse
Aisle's an untravelled wonderland
In July's jolly comings
San's our dire dream's mare
To rip Cupid's love knot
Thence, cynosural pangs of conscience
Didn't you meet Romeo in Verona?
Nor John Doe of Abu Dhabi?
Innuendos about your broken doors
Sorry am poorly writ with homage
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