“Blanched islet embolden my words afore me,
Come with me as if I were impelling fatality,
That our midnight love rendezvous continue,  
All can be forgotten of travesty that followed,

The long day abates as moon climbs slowly,
Those phantasmagorias of life’s hardships,  
None saw the moon that exude in my mouth,
As I easily compare you to a luminary deity,

Meander of her invading my mind of those days,
Diligent of your induced nobility fills my days,
Our heated tribute the past drollery of seasons,
Prudence labor loving engendered us slowly,    

Could it be that the gulfs will wash us down,
As the vigorous fluting for my purpose holds,
Where how my pain palpitate substance of thee,
Are such fluttering intimacies means a euphoric end?
Or have I been fluttering in a phantasmagoric sonnet?      
By Andrew Guzaldo © 1/4/2020  #179