compare me to a summer's day || clouded sonnets

✧ énas egoistís sonéta

┌── •✧• ──┐

What do you think when you lift the shutter
And the tiny flakes of ice are spelling
Foreign words which lead you to a dwelling
With flowers growing out of the gutters?
The frozen dewdrops do slowly mutter
Alienated rhythms, and telling
About a lonely beautiful dwelling
Which murmured poetry in the clutter.

And it serves as a solemn listener
With its emerald windows reflecting light
It may wink esoteric codes in morse
And its creeping vines might invade inner
Souls if your artistic lexicon's right,
And then suck your voice dry in just a course.

└── •✧• ──┘