Sonnet XVIII Flavors
Shall I compare thee to a peach sundae?
Thy lips do make the most parfait parfait.
Thy smile’s far sweeter still than strawberry,
Thine eyes so very cherries jubilee.
Thou art my chocolate, my rocky road,
My raspberry kiss, my mango tango.
Outside daiquiri ice, mint winds may blow,
Inside our hearts fare warm as cookie dough.
So shall we toast our troth with raisin rum
And pledge our promise with pink bubblegum.
Jamoca love like ours shall never budge,
Only endure like almond roca fudge.
Until time crumbles, cookies into cream,
So lives this praline hope, vanilla dream.