Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

ASHTRAY. CITRUS CHARDONNAY. CHILD’S PLAY. LATE MAY.

AFFECTION. MERIT. THEN POMEGRANATE.

In mustard-seed-time, three months between canines.

My heart bumps extra thump-umps. Adrenalined.

FISHING. ICE CREAM. LONG LIMBS. Blurry, tangled lines.

Heavy metal. Banging heads. Sun-burned. Love-brimmed.

LOVELY. But then, Summer shall fade.

Almost unbeknownst. Mostly unprovoked.

GRASS BLADE. SHADE. ITCH. SHIVER. HATE THE GLADE.

Won’t chew dry toast. Rather choke on worm roast.

Fools gold is sunshine and beauty.

You are four seasons, verbal karate, and a veneer not-too-shiny.