Petrarchan Sonnet Poem by JG Correa

As I invoked the brightness of intelligence,
the cosiness of antiquated boroughs
workèd dreamlike in my mind, and arose
the heraldic point of the sun's emergence

upon my prayers for harmonic convergence.
I happened to dream of a girl named Primrose
who, having trouble to keep track of heroes,
symptomatically plotted to take vengeance

against every soul-trusting multi-facet.
I heralded the Roman goddess Flora,
and the God of Sleep whose onset I cosset.

Void of ideas, I then read the Torah,
bathed, combed and groomed my male beagle-basset
before greeting the warm, loving aurora.