As if my heart’s been stung by monstrous bees

In memory, my love will long abide

Though as I write I feel my spring has broke.

My grammar and my spelling are perverse

I used to make religion out of these.

But now I feel that life is getting worse.

As if my heart’s been stung by monstrous bees

In such a state my words may get confused

My sentences are senseless as they’re writ

And as for syntax, it is now abused

As round this room the ghosts of lovers flit.

My grammar is not perfect yet it be

Sad ,I can say just the same of me