Sup guys, just getting back into the swing of things, wrote up a little poem I thought some of you may enjoy, nothing too fancy here just a parody of an old Shakespeare Sonnet I really enjoyed reading in British Lit class lol. *edited it a bit so its not one big thing* My Lover My lover is not perfect, nor is she as complete as our circular earth is. A goddess, she is not for certain, and if she attempted a broadway show I would probably close the curtain. An angel, well far from it, and if she attempted to try to fly she would most certainly plummet. And if she claimed Cleopatra's style, I would tell her outright she was clearly in denile. But a time may come A day may arise when dogs can talk and pigs can fly... But until that day, I must preach that perfection it seems, is out of her reach. Some talk of locks of gold, but I doubt my lover's hair would equal that much, if sold. And some speak of beauty forever, but my lover's features will fade like a tree seeming weathered. And she'll never have the voice of a trained opera star, but some say they're lovers sweet voice sings so far. Some poets strive to make their lovers cry, by preaching sweet things that they know is a lie... My lover, though she may not be perfect is the one that I love and truly she's worth it. Ten folds more beautiful than any fair goddess which might not seem modest but I am truly honest. And if you dare to ask if she's equal to a queen, I would tell you she's not, but she is perfect to me.