It was bugging me, so when I finished the paper I took a few minutes and tried to make it rhyme. It was not easy, and I think I may like it even less (how possible?) but here is a sonnet more along the lines of what Shakespeare intended.
To teenagers I owe all my small joys.
Who preen, and prance, and flirt, and flaunt, and guard
These waters teeming, sunkissed girls and boys.
Bronze kids who tan and sunscreen disregard.
Or taking orders, shaving ice to snow.
They’re counting, pouring; bored and boring days.
When we approach, they glance at us and know;
It’s always grape, as long as summer stays.
They tend to speak of who called whom and why.
They know what matters most and it’s not you.
They offer disdain with a rolling eye.
They gather, loud and silly, much ado.
But were they not around to guard and shave
I might be tempted too, to misbehave.