Shall I compare thee to an insta model?
Thou art curvier and more natural.
Thick thighs do shake the insta algorithms of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the selfie from heaven shines,
And often is your gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed.
But thy eternal beauty shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,
So long as men have insta and eyes can truly see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.