Sonnet 98 ~ William Shakespeare

From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leapt with him.
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flow’rs in odor and in hue,
Could make me any summer’s story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew.
Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
  Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,
  As with your shadow I with these did play.

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Read this, can’t help but think of Misi. ❤

Again

Write a poem about us
she said
and I laughed.

Because she could
easily do it herself
if only she had faith

in the strength
of her words
or the feelings
that create the
desire for them
in the first place.
~4/3/14
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I have been writing a lot of really bad poetry lately. Time to archive the file and start fresh.

If I could count the times my little sister says, “Write a poem about me!”