Sonnet (8

Shall I compare thee to a birthday cake? Thou art more layered and more fattening: Harsh winds do force thy candles fire to shake, And birthday’s end does cause a happening: Sometime too dull thy flours taste does shine, And often thy icings wet and unsweet; And every cake does have its own decline, By cook, or ovens ever changing heat; But thy delicious flavor shall not cease Nor lose possession of thy candles flame; Nor shall thy cook brag of thy masterpiece, When in my oven a beauty you 'came: So long as men can breathe or mouths can eat, So long lives this and this gives taste to thee.