Shall I compare thee to an autumn's day?

Shall I compare thee to an autumn’s day?

Thou art more readily forgotten:

September leaves commence decay,

But thou art already rotten;

Oft too heavy the rains pour down,

And dirt footpaths they muddy;

And crimson leaves do start to brown,

As soon as they are ruddy;

But thy dreariness will never end,

Nor grow less dank and cold;

Thine acrid heart won’t condescend,

To soften once it’s old;

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, regrettably.

Author's Note

Just a bit of fun trying out a parody. I remember doing a version of sonnet 18 for school once, and it was truly awful. I hope this one’s a little better. Apologies to anyone who was hoping for iambic pentameter.

Any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated.

Photo by Timothy Eberly on Unsplash
https://unsplash.com/photos/yuiJO6bvHi4

Reviews

[Miss Sharon]

Nicely written! You don't sound like a beginner to me and I look forward to reading more of your work. Welcome to the Cafe. ~Sharon

[rmarrwrites]

Thank you, I'm glad it turned out well! Seems I did learn something in my Shakespeare lesson after all.