(My very first poem)
I don't even know if I can still use the words: my or penguin, but I don't care;
The confusion in my heart, mind and soul is one I cannot share.
I would give anything to hear the warm, comforting blanket of your voice
But I know that it would be an unwise choice.
To feel the protection spell of a pinky squeeze,
Is to make every worry in my life freeze.
With your low rumble murmur,
Would send through my fluttering heart a tremor.
But alas I know I cannot use the phone, text, or email,
For a true emergency is not what faces this female,
I know that my act would be a selfish one,
And in the end it is an act I could give back none.
The tears that I hide in my heart
Are so full of love and hate I cannot tell them a part.
But for all of your flaws, and for all of my fears
The sweet memories of my penguin are like souvenirs.
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