CCXXVIII and CCXXXIX

A puzzle of unending torture, this.

This host of hints and maze of misled words.

This dismal and distracting mess! I miss

th’integrity intelligence affords.

What should be peaceful, pleasant, and polite

is lost, for leery logic has been cowed.

For past attempts to prove against all spite

an answer that should be is not allowed!

And so it is! And off your guesses go!

No matter how articulate you are!

Some cruel master knows what you don’t know:

that is your ‘close—so close but no cigar’!

But somehow every day I will return

to play Connections, and the answers spurn.

~~~

If you think of me when the Moon is high

and when, from all your burdens, you are free,

if my name comforts you when you must cry,

then all is well. Yes, all is well with me.

Despite the probability that I

will never see you smile at me again,

I have enough to live on, ere I die,

if, to you, one nice memory I’ve been.

So walk into your future without fear,

and never being burdened with the lie

that I have ever held you less than dear,

or any less than precious as the sky.

You are the sweetest song that can be sung.

How long the song will last upon my tongue.