Shakespeare

My poetry, but a shadow of his grace, I mimic his style, his speech, his face. The greatest of his time, a god of his craft, I can only dream to reach where he’s at. If his wisdom were but a fleeting dream, Creativity, his tool, sharp and supreme. His words inspire both young and old, In tales of light, where truths unfold. By his divine touch, the world was moved, The father of poetry, whose words have proved, The wise Shakespeare—no one like him. His legacy, a light that will never dim.