An amorous poetess, in her reverence, wished to create a
sonnet
For a quixotic beloved, a wraith in a realm veiled by
enthymeme
She poured out crimson love into the words and all that they
meant
Twas a beautiful night as the
powdery moonbeam brought a rhyme
To a rhapsody created on the glass
panes by the Heavenly lament.
Her sonnet connoted the plight of
her lonely heart, a dear desire
To bask in the fervor of a rare rendezvous of soul mates in love
The quill dipped in ink fell down
as she got lured into somnolence
A lone tear seeped out of her eye,
it kissed the parchment in trance
The sonnet came to life, he
appeared, the anatomy of romance
He gently wiped the kohl that had trailed
down with the lone tear
And placed a tender, soul
dissolving kiss on her satiny raven hair
She felt it, the vow of love and a
smile brightened her pretty face
His heart ached with longing, twas the
beginning of a fervid romance
Like him, in some other realm, she
saw him writing a love sonnet
She smiled and watched him write his words with intense devotion
The conspiring Universe convulsed
with the overwhelming emotion.
The maiden stepped into
consciousness, ‘Twas him, he was here’
She thought, while the inebriated
melancholic poet turned around,
‘Twas her, she was here’, he whispered, kissing the parchment of love.
