Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
when the winter rolls around,
the sky frigid and blue like a bruise,
I often wonder if a summer’s day
is the correct comparison for you.
For you are
a soft hug after a walk home in the snow;
a crackling fire that warms my toes.
you are not the summer sun,
forming beads of sweat along my brow;
you are the warmth of the bleak midwinter;
a dazzling string of lights
atop a frost coated roof;
You are Christmas morning.