Shall I compare thee to a Spring Day?
Thou art more variable my dear.
Temperate and warm, bright sun of May
Then froze with ice, crisp and clear.
Winds blow from out the frozen North
And switch to hot as Tahitian beach.
Vacillating and oscillating, back then forth
Glimpses of the truth just out o’reach.
As I watch you consistently constantly change
Feelings like swapping off your array
Searching for the new and the strange
A dozen new directions ev’ry day.
As long as breath, hope lives on for thee
For with heart and soul more than eyes I see.
One reply on “Sonnet 18 1/2”
A, you are more lovely.