a flash sonnet by John Ritchie
My initial thoughts favoured 10, until a 9 obsessed me,
Then, voluptuous 8 came by, and fleetingly possessed me.
7, I had dismissed, from my final scheme,
And 6: irreconcilable with my growing theme.
Number 5, is not for me,
Likewise, out with number 3.
At last, I rue,
I am true.
John Ritchie‘s no poet, but he don’t know it!