"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" - William Shakespeare.
'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?' Were I to be more truthful, and less kind Once fair, your hair now more consumed by gray Your dewy luster I struggle to find As weighted toll of years fills in your frame And roses on your cheeks falter and fade I can not say if it is age I blame Or from the fall of youth, a cynic's made Is it my eyes too blighted to recall The fragile beauty your face once possessed No large gash dealt, only dying in small Moments I turned away from your caress Unwatered, our garden lies bleak and spent Winter coating the stems where summers went. 5/14/21
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