Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to meeee...happy birthday to me.

Hello, every buggy. Hope you all had an awesome summer. I know this update isn't very good...I mean, it's a sonnet and all and I love it like no other, but you probably wanted more like a whole story chapter...gave me a whole summer and I did no writing...it was pathetic.

But I felt since the world gives me gifts on my birthday, I'm entitled to give something back.

So, without much ado about nothing, my sonnet.

My love is like the noble mighty oak

That ever in the greatest winds stands fast

And from the fires of his courage rises smoke

A soldier and a lover to the last

But for me should he win his battles, all

As with a furied pace to prove to me

While foe and horse and ally round him fall

The pulsings of the love I cannot see.

A sense of honor haunts where he hath trod

For though a warrior tried by dark and death

Tis in his mind to act as befits God

And so shall he subsist with every breath

His heart is mine and mine by him is kept

And so our love will live while we hath slept.

Some people (my English Prof) think this was about Lancelot and Elaine, the lady of Shallot...I think it's about Rhoswen and Boromir. If you don't know who Rhos is, shame on you.