The Cruellest Month

A Gift to Will

I didn't know what to get you,
Will, so here is your own
Shakespeare's Complete Works,
big, fat and leather-bound,
with your gnomic portrait
on the front. The pencilled
annotations are mine,
notes from the mind
of a Twentieth Century
schoolgirl who loved drama.

You've blown out the dazzle
from hundreds of candles
and made your secret wishes
in the wings. When you cut up
your Globe Theatre cake
don't let the happy dagger
strike the plate. Your wishes
have already come true.
Take a deep bow, William,
with your many happy returns,
and exit, persued by a bear.



April 23—Shakespeare’s birthday