Shall I Compare Thee to a Winter's Day? (Sonnet)

Shall I compare you to a winter’s day?
With your unruly winds of cold
you might, as swords do, slice through the gray
of your own making, frozen, lifeless, and old.
The icy chill of your breath kills miles away,
and, at the first glimmer of a snowing storm,
all are driven to hiding, hoping that they stay
endless, glaciered seas from your destructive form.
What is this world to you anyway?
It is simply a playground for frosted tyranny;
a place where you imagine all listen to what you say,
while the winter spreads a never-ending villainy.
Still, I mean to cling to your bitterly arctic embrace
because, in love I suppose, I came from your place.