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Wednesday, 22 March 2017

Up And Frown

I am as lost as a lost sheep
And I bleat and bleat -
And as I wallow in sorrow
In comes tomorrow:
The days are long - nights hard,
And as I write sonnets like the bard
It takes me to another place
With an intellectual pace.

That was then and this is now;
Reap the spoils of why and how
I travelled in a space of a measured pace
With femininity a plenty of nurtured grace,
As I have bipolar, confidence a plenty
But administered ever so gently.

Copyright Andrew Stevenson 22/03/2017

A sonnet.

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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