The Plight of Shakespeare

Shakespeare says his "mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun"
But your eyes are like the stars in the heavens
The shining life force to the soul of man
Your eyes pierce through the castle walls I've built
To defend my precious red stone
Luscious eyes of innocence that shoot glances of concern
Heavenly eyes that force you to bend to their will
And accept their radiance

Shakespeare says "if hair be wires, black wires grow on her head"
But your hair resembles strands of precious silk
Your iridescent follicles
Lay like precious drapes, accenting the windows of your soul perfectly
Whether wet or arid, your drips with such elegance

He continues to say "I love to hear her speak, yet well I know, That music hath a far more pleasing sound"
But I ask what instrument plays a sweeter tune than your voice
Your giggle is like guitar rifts
Your voice like harp strokes
Even when silent I hear symphonies play

"I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks" he says
But in your cheeks I see only the finest crepuscule roses
The deepest color of butterscotch
Complimented so finely by your fine almond complexion
Your skin alone is an anomaly
So soft and fragrant
Only your hair can be announced as silkier

So I pity the great poet
As he was unable to lay eyes upon you
What metaphors and words could have been produced
Just by the slightest of glances towards you
I revere in my blessing able to lay eyes on such magnificence
Toast to one who's so gentle
And boast to the world the essence of your greatness

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A break down of Shakespeare sonnet 130