Ode to Plushy Cow Socks

January 23, 2011
Every Tuesday was spent
training sloppy fingers,
straining over keys.
All that money, I kept
earning over time,
yearning to self-please

Until, panicky as a rabbit, I was
out in darkness, shopping,
pouting in the snow.
I thought I'd never find it, but
that gift, which was just perfect,
sat first aisle, front row.

So, "Come over here," I
beamed at her, Winter
gleaming in my eyes.
On her lips, a question mark,
not stronger than her excitement,
got lost in the surprise,

and her face lit up like Christmas lights.
In between us, everything was bright.

All I had to say was,
"Moo."





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