Warmth is all I wish for
my toad in a hole
So I'll knit you some mittens
like a burrowing mole
or two cuddling kittens.
Because your hands are my crib.
The meat on my rib.
The butter on my bib.
And on a cheese sandwich pillow
my love for you billows
bouquets of pussy willow.
Scooped on my chest
in our downfeather nest
synching our breath.
