To Shakespeare, Sonnet II
"We know what we are, but know not / what we may be."
In ninth grade halls, I found you again, there
Through fairy woods and Athens' moonlit night,
Your language wrapped me in its spell so rare—
A changeling child transformed by words' delight.
Each syllable unfurled like petals new,
As Puck and Bottom moved upon our stage,
And though at first your verses seemed untrue,
They soon became the keys that freed my cage.
That summer dream awoke in me a fire,
A passion for the magic of your art,
Your poetry became my heart's desire,
Each role I played carved deeper in my heart.
So now I write, inspired by your light,
Still dancing through that midsummer dream night.
