Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
or to the winter wind
that blows down the valleys
and whips your hair
into a glorious tangle
as you climb forrested peaks
in hopes of catching
the blazing star
just sinking
slowly
gently
purposefully
religiously
beneath the horizon
coating your kingdom
in orange
and pinks
and purples
setting all you see
on fire
as if it burned
with each quick beat of your heart
and blow colder winds
to replenish your lungs
for a strong
and careful journey down
your many times conquered mountain
so that you may come again
and again
and again
to see the sun
and the view
and breath the winds that blow
and fall in love
every
single
time