Response to the 18th Sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a winter's night?

Your icy embrace colder than the polar caps.

No mercy is shown when you rob the light,

leaving no warmth to find in your traps.

Look left-look right. Not a soul to be seen.

All life hidden, seeking comfort and protection.

Even the moonlight can't make my delusioned eyes keen,

and your glare, a wind chill, strikes with surprise affliction.

When will the sun rise?

How I long for the slightest ray.

This luminous absence won't be my demise

for here comes the break of day.

A radiant horizon dawns, this misery ends.

I am ready for the next chill that dusk sends