Shall I Compare You To the Winter Sun

When a leaf hung from bough or none at all, The sun runs at the pace of cheetah, And the moon travels at the velocity of a snail, The darkness holds the world longer than before. The razor-sharp mountain's peak creams with snowflakes, Like a white chocolate piping swirled over dark mocha, Stream and bogs freeze into icicles, So trees, shrubs, and bushes were feared by tyranny winter, The whole universe droops in sadness, But the tyranny winter feels no remorse, Standing tall and high stares at and smiles. How beautifully, the merciful sun throws it's a beam, How gently, the pitiful sun drives snows from mountain's peaks, How happily, the trees, shrubs, and bushes rise and beam, How dazzling sun washes away melancholy of all, So I ask you, shall I be your winter sun?