in celebration of 100 Slashed Sonnets.
First came that giant bed which would sleep five,
Spike, Xander, Angel, Doyle, and Wes, at last.
And then the cosy!baby!verse went live,
And Katie, Spike's dead heart did own right fast.
The dreams came next, and they did cause such fright,
Then next the split!verse; Xander's love so false.
And finally the pierced!verse, so right;
Where Xander and his Spike both have a pulse.
A hundred down and fifty four to go,
For once I wish that Shakespeare had writ more.
What will we read when done, I do not know,
These sonnets will be missed and that's for sure.
Please, Willa, darling, don't forget to write.
A thousand crying fans is such a sight.
::waves to ponders_life:: See, I did it!