Leta Belle, A Sonnet Poem by Fred Babbin

Her music in my thoughts, my memory,
Is beauty living in my consciousness.
She had such heavenly ability
And showed it without ostentatiousness,
But the roaming insect bit, so she moved
to other climes and places, where she would die,
and with her death our linkage was removed.
Before her death we never said good-by
so no good-by then nor a last hi-ho.
But I can’t blame her, for it takes a pair
to do the tango and I danced solo
even though she was aware, so bright, so fair.
I have just me to blame for all of this
For then it happened with never a kiss.