Sonnet VIII Sonnet, VIII

ironge

Sonnet VIII

Written by zgob

now i beg you for leaving me alone
i won't love a married woman who lives
with her husband, to whom nothing is known
and why don't you love him for what he gives?
you are always proud that you have a brain
but i myself, prefer a maiden's head,
you accuse me for putting you through pain
by my loving a young woman instead
oh dear heaven, are there morals and trust?
when a married woman decides to meet
another man, her brain is filled with lust
and, o, she runs around with no firm feet
i respect your degrees for your hard work
but love the innocent face of your clerk