Richard Randolph

July 3, 1955--Oregon
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Shall I Compare Thee to a Winter's Night

Shall I compare thee to a winter's night?
Thou art far darker and more cold.
Winter nights oft are long and bereft of light
and slippery roads lead to deaths untold.
Icy winds are another frightful thing,
when gray skies wrap us in a frigid shroud,
but at least we're assured of coming spring
when the warm sun will again shine proud.
But thy cold touch creates an open sore,
such that time and distance can never heal,
and sorrow that tears at our very core
and destroys any hope for love that's real.
So long as men can breathe, and eyes can see,
So long lives this, a curse I cast on thee.
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