You are the Pole I turn around,
My needle’s North, the shade I seek
On a hot day. You are the ground
I grow in, stamina I lack.
Remember snow that caked the “Roost”?
The box of bubbly you carried?
In thickness and in stealth we last.
We are an item though not married.
life of mine
your love a
(Copyright 2018 James Mansfield Nichols. All rights reserved.)