Sonnet 21

No, I’m not like the rest of the bores,
Writing about their Muse as solemn duty,
Using up the world to make metaphors,
Saying the same line to each new beauty.
They are like merchants using ivory
To make small statues of great elephants.
They’d steal poems from your sanctuary
And forget them among their dead house plants.
I’ll try to tell you the truth when I write:
Of how I love the gap between your teeth.		
They’d leave you out on the mountain at night		
I’ll walk with you in alder wood beneath.		
Those others boast of love to make gossip
I write these words to begin our courtship.
    An adaptation 
    from William Shakespeare’s original

© Nick Power