Shakespeare Summer's Day Poem Novels & Stories

'Journeys end. Journeys end, wait a minute' He unfolded a paper and started reading, Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. What is love? ‘It’s not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies not plenty; Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure. (Note: it's written by Shakespeare)

Elky’s shadow didn’t move. I turned the page. Her voice came up at me in ink: summer in Venice when Venice wasn’t yet a stage set for other people’s romance. Lemon trees that over performed that year, blossoms that fell into people’s hair. Lines about a balcony whose marble warmed to a particular temperature at sunset. Observations that were science dressed up as poetry: the way light sticks to water, the way water reflected light.