Sonnet I

I pick filaments of you from my hair.
    Soap and water spirited muck away,
And yet, still more fragments end up in there.
    Lashed out postpartum; blame old love's decay
O, we it diff'rent, ne'er more vanity
    'Cept though ne'er did dream of this lover's smile.
'Twas a fit puzzle for complexity,
    Who, to a bird, would attribute guile?
'Cause you are clever you've a following,
    Of thee we'll be perpetually fond.
Apologies for wordly hallowing,
    Alighting on calm water rippled calm pond.
And if I were thou, I would abhor me
Vib'rant flowers bloom in your company