Shakespeare's Sonnet 16

{Callie's Version}

But wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant Time,
And fortify yourself in your decay
With means more blessèd than my barren rhyme?
Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens, yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear your living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit.
So should the lines of life that life repair
Which this time’s pencil or my pupil pen
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair
Can make you live yourself in eyes of men.
 To give away yourself keeps yourself still,
 And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.

-William Shakespeare

We are beyond procreating, you and 
I. Shall I now write what of ourselves we've
given away; what of ourselves still stands?
Rinsed strawberries in a bowl. Through the sieve
pink water seeps on a kitchen cloth. You
left them their - ripe - before going to work.
I baked a batch of blueberry scones - knew
to place them next to the fruit, though I'd lurk
throughout the day taking note how much red's
left, and all the blue doused in sugar, gone.
Every stage of their growing up has fed
me. Do we know them now? Their fears, joys, songs?

Yes. 
       It is a strange sort of harmony.
And we will figure it out, you and me.

Callie R. Feyen