Last December...

Last December night, in the dull ember light

I wrote my first poem to you.

 

Fragmented lines disjointed rhymes, except I got the stress on your Spanish name right.

 

Neither the words nor the awkward metaphors, you only fancy the way the sudden shift in tone makes you laugh.

 

I wrote a hundred more and I knew you read them all.

 

We've already set our ship to sail, searching for the horizon where the sky and the sea meet.

 

Last December, I met you and became a poet; by next December I hope we're still exploring the earth.