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Shall I compare you to a summer sunrise?

You are more fiery and fair.

Illuminating more flowers with your chocolate eyes

Shining more through your glossy hair.

 

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Shall I rather compare you to a lunar eclipse?

Poet, philosopher, work of art.

Profound questions wax more from your lips.

More shadow covers your heart.

 

 

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What makes the birds able to sing? You ask.

And how do they fly away?

Do you and I look at the exact same thing,

And see it the same way?

 

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No answers have I, exquisite child of seven;

Only this: you are heaven.

 

 

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One thought on “Sonnet VII

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