Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Sonnet 18

Shall I smurf thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more smurfy and more temperate:
Rough winds do smurf the darling buds of May,
And summer's smurf hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the smurf of heaven shines,
And often is its blue complexion smurfed;
And every smurf from smurf sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course unsmurf'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not smurf
Nor smurf possession of that fair thou smurf'st;
Nor shall Smurf brag thou smurf'st in its shade,
When in eternal smurfs to time thou grow'st:
     So long as men can smurf or smurfs can see,
     So long smurfs this and this gives smurf to thee.

(Should it worry me I'd give my left testicle
to hear Morgan Freeman read this?)


  1. Quite smurfing!

    (It would only be worrying if it were your only testicle left.)