Sonnet for Matt - Hjaltalin

Dear young Matt

Why has fate turned you around, and upside down?

You left a wife, a boy of mere nineteen winters gone, gone for long

It’s well kosher that sunday roast I’ll cook at nine

Come over, that brown eyed baby will be mine

Hitchin in Hertfordshire

Topless drinking Frostie Jack’s

'It will screw you over, sunshine.'

Dear old Matt

Why can love not suit you well?

It’s easy to dwell

It’s well kosher that sunday roast I’ll cook at nine

Just come over, that brown eyed baby will be mine

Your fever must break away

To flower, makes it hard to say

Just if you’re lonely then throw that roast away

Put your shirt on, and see the light of day