A Sonnet a Day

As the proverb does not go.

Within the poet's arsenal of dots
And lines and dashes, none is so fine
(At least to my mind) as the apost-
rophe perchance is. What was once thine
Can become mine with this humble mark
Hung o'er. And what was base, or commonplace,
Is much better than befo'ere. What is a lark
But something stark and easily erased -
Unless fore'er in evenin' air he gains
Anothers' place. But much is this brave glyph
Abused in ev'ry lover's songs' 'n' s'trains;
Foreshort'ning words to those absurd: Terrif',
Fabu', and p'ain. O! Cherish this small sign,
My love! By 'postrophe, my poor heart's thine.

Mood: Better, now that Jules happened. (Very true, Pooh.)
Music: "You Spin Me 'Round" from the Happy Hamlet Warm-Up Playlist
Determination: To betake me on more day trips this summer!