Sonnet 18 for Shakespeare Cynics (a poem)

Is it fair to compare you to a summer’s day?
Of course not; you’re better by a long, long way!
Your beauty is greater, consistently so.
You see sometimes, in summer, the wind starts to blow;
A beach-goer must sunbathe in what time’s allowed;
The sun might shine too hot, or be covered by cloud;
The day may become chill where it once had been warm
And the clearest of skies might just bring forth a storm.
But your summer-like beauty, to me, will not fade.
Although roses may wilt, it will never degrade.
Any number of fair or foul summers may pass,
With their beds of bright flowers and lush, verdant grass,
But through all those long years, you’ll stay beautiful still.
(Thanks for the inspiration, Will.)

 

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