It wasn't fair. EJ had found him, brought him home, set up a comfy, warm bed of hay in the basement; she'd even named him. But from our first encounter on that cold January night, Mister Peepers only ... [+]
Fresh chocolate chip cookies that you didn’t bake
Tulle and Wool and Velvet as your hand grazes bolt after bolt
Garage door clank-sweating to open again
Zingy pineapple juice drizzling down you neck
Streetlights-snow, ashy embers floating
Orange peels curling under fingertips
Ice skates melting through the waxy untouched rink.
Plates of butter-brickle snapping tween your teeth
Yellow mug of chocolate, steam expanding your soul
An unlit candle’s wick
Thick copper ring reflecting green-gold eyes
Black waves of hair gently sift through a tight-knit comb
Cursive wrapping your name into a bow
Little things worth living for
Tulle and Wool and Velvet as your hand grazes bolt after bolt
Garage door clank-sweating to open again
Zingy pineapple juice drizzling down you neck
Streetlights-snow, ashy embers floating
Orange peels curling under fingertips
Ice skates melting through the waxy untouched rink.
Plates of butter-brickle snapping tween your teeth
Yellow mug of chocolate, steam expanding your soul
An unlit candle’s wick
Thick copper ring reflecting green-gold eyes
Black waves of hair gently sift through a tight-knit comb
Cursive wrapping your name into a bow
Little things worth living for