Of Alan Wickersham and Mauve Bolts

(A Sonnet)


Dreary Alan Wickersham truly loved.

Sadly, intentions, had been often shoved.

For fair Mauve Bolts, gave many teary cries.

Told outlandish tales, and compulsive lies.



Brave Alan loved her, though her heart at bay.

He made her blush with this, begging her "stay!".

He knew her mind; playful, childish with glee.

Expelling their woes, floating them to sea.



For Alan loved Mauve, all his wayward life.

But death she feared more, then being a wife.

Playing one last trick, leaving forever;

Falling from her boat, she hid, so clever.



Only in his eyes would their world exist,

So too, her likeness, in ironic mist.