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.
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.
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?
No answers have I, exquisite child of seven;
Only this: you are heaven.