This is my creation for the daily prompt of The Writer's Cramp, which is due on 9-6-18. |
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? A joy-filled thought on full display? Bright ray of hope above the fray, your smile, my sun, dispels dismay. What summer's day compares with thee? My beating heart so full and free? What beauteous You shines over me! The sun, my guide, your face to see. Were Shakespeare blest to know thy life with eyes so wet and heart of strife, he'd want thee for his bonnie wife, but as mine, he'd be left to fife. The apples of your cheeks do blush when I pelt thy ears with mush. Forever and always my crush. Our home I'll ply with carpet plush. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? That'd mean you're hot to make me sweat, but I can't kiss you come what may, while tow'ling face that's flowing wet. If you're a summer's day in The South, then please be cool and fan my face, and find some tea to slate my mouth, before I faint in sore disgrace. Or where'r my manners? This can't be true that my "romantic" orders are due. I should be focusing on you, that's how a love is shown as true. Down here the summer days are hot. The P.C. rules I quite forgot. Now that the A.C. hit the spot, let's talk about you, Miss Hot-to-Trot! Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? I could, but better yet let's go inside to drink in thy blissful eyes I'd say and have some tea as from the sun we hide. My Lady Fair, I have to stare. Your beauty's so much more than mine. I'm grateful you don't really care. What bliss that Love is truly blind! by Jay O'Toole on September 6th, 2018 |