A Sonnet On An Awesome Spotting.

Upon completing therapy, I peeped
my Sweetheart charting genius thoughts on her
absurdly fluffy fiber-back and gleamed
at classy plastered grass and tripped tree-fur.

I ditched the window, tumbling outdoors,
and scanned her land with pupil-perfect view.
Her plain mint blanket catered her gut-sores
with quick fry clumps and chummy chewy glue.

I tottered to her cute creative nest
and smooched her poofy mocha pasta locks.
I plopped into her pretzeled legs to rest.
“I love you,” I said, spying her tech-clock.

I wish I skipped last Friday’s writing class
and stayed in my Love’s lap surveying grass.