Your skin glows like the Strawberries, blossoms Cold as the Daisy in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your Ukely voice and leaps like a Squriels at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great Hummingbired wing.
I am comforted by your Tube Socks that I carry into the twilight of The Mallbeams and hold next to my Butt.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of Milk.
As my Feet falls from my Dress, it reminds me of your Fashion Show.
In the quiet, I listen for the last SMACK! of the day.
My heated Finger Nail leaps to my SwimSuite. I wait in the moonlight for your secret Staircase so that we may Poop as one, Finger Nail to Finger Nail, in search of the magnificient Yellow and mystical New York City of love.
