the winning sonnet (by Froog)

Days spent in wrangling reams of turgid text,

The lovely Moonrat wastes her youthful bloom,

Quite lost in penniless, unlaundered gloom;

By boss’s obscure whims she’s sore perplexed,

By obstinate designer cruelly vexed,

Entombed in her untidy little room

To grapple with the Manuscript of Doom;

So ill-paid, unregarded, undersexed.

And yet her colleagues aren’t entirely mad;

The work gets done, the books turn out not bad;

Reviews soon have Robert feeling funky;

And Moonie’s thrilled, she brags to Mom and Dad;

Then home at last, so late and tired, but glad –

To snuggle up to dear Rally Monkey.