I'd thought that perhaps I would maybe end
This little sonnet sojourn with a crown,
But sadly there are only six to mend
So I don't really want to let them down.
Or maybe I could do it but one more?
And end this fun with six hundred and one,
That might make these few last ones less a chore
And make them feel more complete when they're done.
So that's decided then a crown it is,
And I'll end in a paltry seven days
No longer to claim I'm a sonnet whizz
But that I wrote some and got little praise.
Although at times I did get some applause,
Few of my sonnets did not have their flaws.