Arontius of Bygelswade

.....Greetings All,

.....I promised Mistress Ellen a sonnet at Twelfth Night this year and have struggled with it ever since. I had the feeling from her that she wanted something in a humorous vein. I cannot seem to make the leap. I have read period examples of where sonnets told a humorous story. But to me, the cadence and rhythm of a sonnet remind me too much of a liturgy, almost something of the spiritual. Certainly something in which I'd feel uncomfortable writing something 'funny'. :-)

.....So I offer the below. It is told in a serious mode, but still contains the required pink toenails. :-)

She had drunk of the cup that knowledge made.
It's fire consuming youth in its heat.
Experience, the temper to this blade.
Forged by this master of the woven feat.

She proudly stood upon the precipice,
Surveying the new found world below her.
Eyes blazing from her metamorphosis,
As toenails pink did proclaim the transfer.

Yet she was clothed in white of innocence.
A virgin to attend the sacred flame.
Unbound hair flowing without consequence,
Conveyed a liberty free of all blame.

In joy she does emerge from her cocoon,
This lady of silk as bright as the noon.

With Love Unto Ellen, Arontius. :-)