Sonnet 666 A sunny mire dowsed in the sun's warm rays, A sunny couple travel a beaten path. A baleful storm pursues their new born days. A path chosen in haste, idiopaths. Ignorant to travellers before them, They revel in each other's ritual, They need nothing else to occupy them. Nothing material, just spiritual. The blizzard has caught up with them, Sun turns to red and bleeds out so forlorn. Beaten path always leads to the same fen, Their new born steps have fast become stillborn. Stagnant surroundings have dealt all their wrath, Fork in the road, they take separate paths.
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