Friday sonnet: Verona Song

Ok, so I’m not Romeo. I have set
My canon ’gainst self-slaughter; furthermore,
I can’t climb balconies (the fact your floor’s
The third one doesn’t help). So yes, I’ll let
It slip: I’m not his like. But is that bad?
The guy was such a fluke. He told his dear,
‘You’re like the sun,’ which means ‘I cannot bear
To look at you,’ in fact, old Will’s a fad.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Nah, you are much more hot than that; I’ll pluck
A better compliment, one where you’ll stay
Completely unpredictable, blind luck:
Combed by the wind, you are a stormy day,
All rush and glow, when I was thunderstruck.