‘Tis summer, the air hot and heavy in its heat
As I ponder the wisdom in writing like the Bard
'Tis an attempt of which I cannot fully speak
The words to equal his; this task may prove quite marred.
The softness of the summer wind blows about me again
Carrying the bloom of flowers with a fragrance so sweet
As I sit amidst it all to ponder the perfect words to pen
With which the Bard’s great approval might possibly meet.
Dare I speak of summer love or its sweet respite,
Or the beauty of the birds and butterflies that flit about,
Or mayhap the ingenious character that oft’ he gave the night?
I cannot say for I am consumed with perpetual doubt.
Methinks no one can pen a sonnet as lovely as Shakespeare
For his writings spring eternal, enduring for endless years.
About the Creator
Cindy Calder
From Charleston SC - "I am still learning." Michelangelo
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