Thursday, 4 January 2007


Would you compare me to a Summer’s day?
Not really, I suppose, if truth were told,
Not first thing in the morning anyway-
More like the end of Autumn: rumpled, old…
Perfection taunts me from a magazine
Where Truth is Beauty, Beauty wrinkle-free;
I wonder if you wish that I had been
A girl to make heads turn, instead of Me?
You snuggle closer, kiss me on the neck -
“I love you…” and of course, I know you do,
Despite the fact that I’m an ageing wreck.
“But what,” I say, “Would you compare me to?”

“Shall I compare you to this Summer’s day?”
You draw the curtains and the sky is…grey.


robinhl said...

What do you mean "failed poet"?!?
Gigi this is brilliant! Of course it's harsh, who enjoys not being 25 any longer!?
(I've got a matching sonnet, "The Squirrel in the Attic of his Brain", let me know if you want to see it.)
Not "failed" - but "not yet successful".
I lift my Diet Coke to toast your imminent success!

Andy Bonjour said...

Well done. I love the ending cuplet.
-Andy Bonjour