Your eyes
aglow
I walk the cobblestone without you
wishing it was winter again
And we could squawk.
Your breast, the most glorious plumage this side
of the Mississippi
One day you shall return to me, glistening
with the sweet perfume of the river below.
I, your devoted consort, shall wait for you
in anticipation
of caressing your rose petal soft lips
Your humble servant,
Calgary Bow
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