Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more splendid and yet more gritty.

White snows will blanket the budding trees along the Charles,

And fall’s leaves will swirl down thine cobble-stoned streets.

Sometime too congested the thoroughfares become,

And a nickname is bestowed in honor of your drivers’ temperament;

And every rivalry is a rivalry with your sportsmen,

By defeat, or repeated glory years, undaunted;

But thy eternal spirit shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of those hearts thou own’st,

Nor shall evil proclaim victory o’er your goodness,

When in the books of History thou art recorded.

So long as we can love, or loyalty can lie,

So long lives Boston, and Boston gives strength to all.

You have touched us more profoundly than we thought even you could have touched us – our heart was full when we watched there that day, and then days.

You opened your streets to us in the presence of unknown enemies. You inspired our courage with resolve; our cup overflows.

It was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant that our faith could be restored in each other … and we all knew it.

You’re headstrong, tough, and a little in-your-face. Your people don’t say “r,” your subway is called “The T,” and your “C’s” are a little old. But even when you’re at your worst, we stick around in the hopes we’ll deserve you at your best.

On-street parking is a luxury. Not a necessity.

We are nothing special; just common people with common thoughts, and we’ve led common lives. There will be no monuments dedicated to us and our names will one day be forgotten. But in one respect we have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who’s ever lived; we’ve learned from you that we have the power to triumph through bravery and compassion; and for us, this will prove to have been enough.

In vain the cowards have acted. It will not do. Our feelings will not be repressed. You must allow us to tell you how ardently we admire and support you.

We did not go looking for this opportunity, but we repeat to you our vow of eternal seasons tickets and everlasting parking lot tailgating.

You are our North End, our South End, our Beacon Hill, our Fenway Park,

Our weekly commute and our Sunday brunch.

Doubt thou that the Big Dig is complete; Doubt that the Patriots will rebuild; Doubt Affleck to find a new location; But never doubt that we will run again.

You’re simply the best, better than all rest.

Modified with appreciation and respect from: Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18; Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s letter to her future husband, fellow poet Robert Browning; Psalm 23:5; “Sleepless in Seattle”; Marilyn Monroe; Cher; “The Notebook,” by Nicholas Sparks; “Pride and Prejudice,” by Jane Austen; “Love in The Time of Cholera,” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez; “Stop All The Clocks,” by W.H. Auden; “Hamlet,” by Shakespeare; and “Simply The Best,” by Tina Turner.

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Abby Diaz grew up in Falmouth and lives there again, because that’s how life works. She blogs at whatsleftover.com. Follow Abby on Twitter: @AbbyDiaz1.

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