Dear Lover,
Will you build me a treehouse?
As your wedding gift to me.
A place to share our morning tea.
In mugs that we've stolen from diners while on road trips.
A place to lie on our backs.
And throw out names into the leaf-speckled sunlight.
How about River?
Or August?
What do you think about Van?
How I've always loved Stevie and Mae.
A place for me to follow the trajectory of your finger.
As it sweeps across night skies.
Pointing out constellations.
Love,
Me.
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