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Ode to Plushy Cow Socks
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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