Shall I Compare Thee? (Sonnet Two Thousand and Forty-Six)
Shall I compare thee to a lump of clay?
Thou art more salty and less clump-full
Hot stoves may burn but harden… nay!
You remain soft and fleshy as bull!
Boogers get stuck in clay's tight body
Your nostrils allow things to fly free
Neither you nor clay is very gaudy
Rather dull and bland you both be
That's eight lines
Could it be enough?
How many times
Must the going get tough?
Hahaha! Just one more!
Fourteen lines! Oh what a bore….