BREAKING SHAKESPEARE

I dreamed that I saw Shakespeare's Ghost,                                                                            Slip past Saint Peter when his eyes were closed,                                                                  And float to Earth on golden wires,                                                                                            Past still familiar domes and spires,                                                                                     Before checking in to a Comfort-Inn Lodge,                                                                         To catch-up with the latest Netflix binge-watch. 

I can't help but imagine the Birthday Bard enjoying a pipe and a wry smile whilst binge-watching the latest seasons of political intriguing and dynastic struggles from thrones to marriage beds.  Reclining on his memory-foam mattress, he would doubtless raise his tankard to the top-quality characterization, spot-on-dialogue, and gut-wrenchingly-good drama.  He might even compose a sonnet on how "The gentle Avon flows into the Amazon."