Where shall I begin? Too much to say, far too long
held in. The sky is blue, the clouds are fluffy, floating past
the sun. Cupid’s bow is poised, the arrow ready to fire, and the
target has has been selected, there could only ever be one. It is you,
the god under the sun, so tanned and devilishly handsome. Oh you
are the son of spring and summer, please take this winter bride,
all bare and ready for heat, light and happiness everywhere. It’s
stupid I know, I don’t even know you, yet even so, I love you.