Shall I compare thee to a summer’s play?
Thou art more comely and more longwind’d:
like the TV series the darling buds of May,
that summer’s star hath all too short a skirt:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his cold shower shimm’d;
And every fair sofa called sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s beard is untrimm’d;
But thy eternal ratings shall you fade
Nor lose possession of the remote control owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou game is so played,
When in reality shows to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and just don’t watch to glee.