Idle limbs, passive on this busy-bodied day,
are restless and weary, but I've much to say:
'Tis thus in verse I'd rather waste away,
to pay homage to Apollo, who knows the way
to the flutists' prose to not lead Cupid astray.
'Tis days as such so many hope and pray,
the victor to be to jettison away
their petty fears so foiled with delay,
thus prompting Dolores's return--'tis her way.
As the truth approaches, await many in their tower,
pacing to an' fro with words: "Be this my fateful hour?
Will I be to Astrophel as Hermia to her Lysander
or be betrayed and beguiled by a wanderer of the night,
that leads night-wanderers amiss; a shrewd and knavish sprite?"
If fate be the former, finally will I take sweet repose
in knowing the Gods have not me forsaken.
But if fate be the latter know now I shan't be mistaken,
for I'll plead to these deities, "Keep thy bloody Prose!"
Thee, Thy, & Thine
Fluffy and full of spirtes and magical entities, the fantasy is shared, but not altogether welcome...I had a friend who wrote sestinas , one who wrote lots of trines, I knew a "pun" king once, and a rhymer but me and straight rhymes in high voice get lost looking for...thou and I get an end rhyme...don't ever change, it's soooooo you - allets