SONNET 1

(A Shakespearian sonnet)

[08th September 2013]

Dusk came, and with a chill,
Hearken to cries of solitude.
An abyss, with nothing to fill;
He alone, of all the multitude.
Then came she, out of the blue!
Golden tears emanating from bright eyes,
Trembling, stitching tales be true;
Struck with awe, a fool ate her lies.
Summer reigned but for a moment's blur,
Furthermore, procrastinated was the choice made;
Frailty; of all abominable sins ergo doth not spared her,
Anthesis of fidelity inevitably strayed.
Now is the winter of discontent
Reflecting antecedent delusions to eternal lament.