I am no minion. I will not attend
Your every whim or humour your desire.
My time is all my own, for me to spend –
What makes you think it’s not, may I inquire?
I’m not prepared to wait more than an hour
Watching the clock, impatient, when you’re due.
I’ll drink some bitter in your absence, flower,
And when that’s supped that’s quite enough of you.
I’d question where you’d got to if I thought
You’d tell the truth for once. but I suppose
You’d call me sad for asking, so I ought
To bring this less than happy chapter to a close.
I’m not a fool, love, like besotted Will.
You’re a control freak – Lord, you make me ill!
Notes: “I’d like to challenge you to “remix” a Shakespearean sonnet.” Re-reading some of Shakespeare’s sonnets, I see why they appealed so much to my adolescent self; My older self feels that Will went a little over the top in his affections…