Shall I compare thee to a summer peach?
Thou art as fuzzy but more succulent
I whisper prayers to your sun-warmed flesh,
my head in worship of your ripeness bent.
You laugh at me from underneath your blue-brimmed hat
That pearly laugh which I adore
That makes my heart grow wings and fly,
confounding seagulls in the azure February sky.
My stomach somersaults on summer’s salty rim
while lips meet lips and skin caresses moon-kissed skin.
The world, unlike myself, cannot intrude beneath this blue-brimmed hat,
and for that, I love you even more.