Sing me a sonnet of my bloom
Of the noble quest into a pestilence
Set me off into a room of silence
One naively built of whom
Carefully calculated quickly to doom
Desiring a mode of passion, even violence
Only in my mind, and on for my patience
Carry me away from this looming flume
Quickly it found wings to soar
Dared to take my every inhale
Great eyes in me they did roar
Taking with each magical
Glance and gasp, proving more
My bloom is yet to fail
(a Sonnet written in the traditional Petrarchan style of 14 lines with line 8/9 a turn around or volta appearing. The rhyming scheme of each line is a, b, b, a, a, b, b, a, c, d, c, d, c, d)
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