Shall I compare you to the End of Days?
You are much safer and predictable
than cataclysm that the Mayans say
will come December of this year. I will
not buy this, can’t believe your grace would die
in conflagration, earthquake, hurricane,
your smile erased by some tsunami’s tide,
your spirit melted in monsoon-like rain.
But still, there is that chance they got it right,
and this may be our last year on this earth,
so let’s abandon hope and dance all night,
and if there’s sunrise, watch for all it’s worth.
So long as I can breathe and I can see,
I’ll thank the world for your good company.