Wish you were Here

A Sonnet

Oh Figaro, swimming in the fish bowl
through our wonderful world of make believe,
painting roses red as reigning white queens
singing love songs to those wandering souls.
How missing you has made me a jack ass
toiling under emotional labor
that a better mother would have saved her,
again, inner wit bites with sinful sass.
I should have kept you my puppet, my doll
princess all locked up still mint in the box,
grow never knowing songs of hens and cocks
whose eggs built the walls, left only to fall,
	so you think you can tell heaven from hell?
	Bitter cup, whiskey is the wishing well.