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Sonnet XII


O lute, true friend in my adversity,
You witness first hand all my tears and moans.
You bring diversion when I’m woebegone,
And when I lose at love, you mourn with me.

Then, as I weep and strum a melody,
At once, you render it in somber tones,
Transposing major keys to minor ones.
Dear friend, we work in perfect harmony.

And when I mingle pleasure with a sigh,
At once, you then switch back to major keys.
You know my moods so well that we become

As one. We’re playing songs that satisfy,
Without constraint or dreary tedium,
And always with an ending bittersweet.

© 2000 Alice Park

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