Hark, as this sonnet rolls across your screen,
The day unfolds before you, like thick screens.
Unless you read this sonnet at night, seen
By your eyes through darkness,without sun’s sheens.
And as you finish the first stanza here,
You visualize both day and night, yes.
Perhaps you drink some milk, or perhaps beer.
Perhaps you instead visualize chess.
Whatever sites and sights your mind goes to,
You will most certainly agree that it
Ventures there so willingly, unless you
Have a mind that decided to just sit.
But no matter what you find, here my call:
This sonnet is about nothing at all.
The Daily Travesty 