Shall I compare thee to a summer’s afternoon?
Thou art more miserable and more dejected:
A woman did make my father swoon,
And rain’s increase left my ice cream cone affected:
Sometime “thou needeth to get o’er ‘t”, Father insists
And as the vein in his head grew, so flew the spittle from his lip.
And every affair at the fair most certainly persists
“Just get o’er ‘t? Is that how thou feeleth about our relationship?
When thy slumbereth an eternal summer with my sister?
Thou wilt lose possession of my bosom and this fair child.”
Father retorted, “At least I still did feel something when I kissed her.”
Just as mother’s face blazed scarlet, father’s bashfully beguiled.
So long as Father can offend or his eyes disparage,
So long thou remind me why I’ve sworn off marriage.

—J. Kaufman-Shalett

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