I begin to pout
just wondering how lovely the day must be.
From where you stand
in another land
sipping on your mug of tea.
"Is this local?" you ask the reception
studying the faintest, slight deception
when he tells you that the cookie is from NYC.
I hope you're trying fancy things
and dainty treats made just for kings
cause that's what you are to me.
And when you're away, my heart's on loan
along with my lipstick and telephone
and my mind to the nth degree.
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