Sonnet - 107 Poem by Xavier Mandreza

Which of my Errors could you Live without
When the Clock's Best Finger strikes at my Lore
Where Youth my Darling Butter blows its Spout
What Severs the Mind does Permit its Sore
I tell of Accounts from my Heart's own Wail
That Lemmings were to their Breath expire
If I Wish, snake myself to your Avail
Though Jump to the Cliff my Clouds inspire
But when that Therapist did Examine
How Life must its Views should Regenerate
One's own Goal to Harmony determine
My Humble Minister should Appellate.
To Turn my Head for my Heart's Best Conscript
Was at that Moment your Month's Rolling Gift.