“Crisp fresh air,” you say.
My red nose longs for peach-scented breezes
Where on my forehead, diamonds sparkle
My pup’s long tongue stares down my sweet tea
His tail drumming rhythm on my wicker chair
While the fan squeaks a soft harmony
My numb toes ache for flip-flops on sand
At your “refreshing air,” my red nose groans.
Then I look at you,
And I see snowmen dancing their feet off.
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