Puffballs [sonnet]

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Please give me one sincere and from the heart
admirer who has honour flowing deep
(dreams huge) – whose praise does not intrude, depart
or flatter sycophantly (talk is cheap).
For that is worth one thousand hangers-on
who never last for long and come in lights
and with a bang – next moment they are gone:
those fickle fulsome fawning harassites.
Yet only on the fingers of one hand
can loyal steadfast friends be counted clear.
So few and far are those who understand;
who with you in your dark will persevere.
When two-faced fleeting puffballs effervesce
I covet constancy and faithfulness.
© Alan Morrison, 2013

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