I'd write a sonnet with impressive lines
if I had impassioned things to say.
I'd make a stab at sweet designs,
But that would very soon betray

My lack of poet's license guise,
And dearth of any flowery phrase.
In truth, my awful stumbling tries
Would surely bring dismay, and raise

A question why I dare pursue
A phantom dream I can't fulfill.
No doubt by now you know it's true.
I am no poet. Rest easy, Will.

My sonnet is no masterpiece.
I hope it's not a disaster piece.