Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
I could like Shakespeare pen idyllic lines!
Or is that but a quaint and drawn cliche?
Cliche, archaic, sexist too I find.

When but this hardship ever passes by,
And you and I like lovers ever be,
Will be the day that I release a sigh,
This task complete a payment, it’s a fee.

A fee like dowry, no, again that is,
Just slightly gross to treat you like a toy,
That one might buy inside a Target, Iz,
You mean such more than idle trinket joy.

So here I end my heart wrought task I’m done,
No more shall I be needing write, you’ve won.