Dear Lover

You are a delicious cup of Mexican Hot Chocolate, you satisfy me on the cold days; the bottom of your glass is always too sweet to drink, but I drink you to the end. Because it sits here in front of me, and for fear a stranger will sneak up and steal away our best days. perhaps good fortune will refill our glasses, and we will ignore the serpents who tell us we need to grow up. Because the baseball field is no place for romance, and after all you have a deadline.