Sonnet XVI

That day where minds did wander tinted hues
A pact was signed, though not of ink but word.
Wherein one'd paint with whites on blacks and blues
The other'd draw with rhythm formed absurd.
In telling now, no pretence is displayed;
No gifts of intellect are standing near.
Incessant ramblings move to be arrayed;
These nothings can't be set to be so dear:
For sands of time must pass for wisdom's growth
And words much be exchanged for sentiment
To be of worth. O, this be true of both
Agreed, else turn to a quaint detriment.
These words precurse that promised, forming verse.
Upon return, these words will reimburse.