Sonnet No 6
Grumpy old for old times sold,
Rewritten piece of story,
Rusty wood not made of gold,
Wont shine eternal glory.
Love for people lost on path,
Fed to worms with Mary-Lue,
Fire lost was of youth's wrath,
All that's left is grumpy Jew.
Morning paper comes in late,
August's weather can be hot,
Serving you the words of hate,
For you smile while you should not.
Still resound words semper fi,
Lonely, ill and made of rye.
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