A rose by any other name would smell
as sweet as yours (to my sense such a rose)
Dear Valentine, your story I shall tell
and praise love’s flower, thorn-guarded though it grows:
I have not words for everything I feel;
waves wash with tears my dim half-waking sense
as in a walking dream, from which I reel
and wake to find abundant recompense
is granted by that sacred dream of love
where in our summertime the roses grew
then shed their petals all about, above
the heady air, below the morning dew.
You never were nor ever will be mine
Still such a rose I call my Valentine.
© Experimentsinfiction 2021, All Rights Reserved
Welcome back to Sonnet Sunday! For this one, I wondered if I could pick a line from Shakespeare and turn it into a Shakespearian sonnet. Let me know how you think I fared, and remember to link up your sonnets as we are sharing the love of poetry all Valentine’s Day long! ❤️ 🌹 ❤️