Sonnet Xxxiii Poem by Maangi Mongare Kevin

Just longer say I'm born to brag under sun
And tell tales of my life's changing course
For never will your daughters fit my son
Born of a queen I much show you across
Query the countenances your mistress have
And count times they, their brows counterfeit
Leave late, come and contrast my love
For in the eve is midday sun, my mate
And as men think their mistresses as gems
Diamonds, gold, clay, all deeply dead
I solely be at my love's various stems
For she lives, is a rose, a flower in head

Love, even with fake mistresses, men still say
For they've known not you, real, even today