Sunday, September 18, 2011
Re-write William Shakespeare's sonnet #18
I look at her on a day, where half of the year has gone. Though wind is in the sky the day is still just fine. When I look at her I see her as just fine and sweet as the buds on the ground in May. She is like the day when half of the year has gone. Not even death can take her from me as she is as fine as can be. Even though half of the year has gone I still do not want any to take her from me at all.
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Too many uses of the word 'fine' - you can easily vary the vocabulary more to avoid the text becoming flat and stale...
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