A man sits quietly at his desk, the lamp dim and the sky dark. He cannot sleep. He knows she can't either.
He picks up a pencil.
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"Shall I compare thee to a summers day?"
No, not a summers day.
Maybe an ocean,
Limitlessly powerful,
Beautifully uncontainable,
Gorgeously untamable,
But not a summers day.
Your eyes are the moon,
Not day, but night,
Glittering with a hidden essence
That very few have truly seen.
But not a summers day.
The way you talk,
The way you walk,
The breezy way you say good morning
And the intimate way you say good night.
The way you stay awake
When the city falls silent,
Reading and writing,
Thinking and wandering,
Hoping to satisfy that undying hunger of yours.
But not a summers day.
You are not a summers day,
My love,
You've never had life that easy.
You've struggled far too long,
Far too much,
To be given such a false identity.
You are not a summers day,
But the gentle waves lapping the shore at night,
The arms of our galaxy wrapping the earth,
The moons craters that reflect in your teary eyes...
You are the world standing still,
For just one moment,
To breathe.
