You're the Ballet en Pointe;
difficult yet graceful and magnificent.

You're winter; touching my roots
and removing the orange anger
hanging from the fragile tips of
my branches after autumn weather.

You're Easter; every secret I find
hidden in your life's bushes is an egg
left by that gracious holiday creature and
I'm triumphant and I love you more.

You're California; hot and fun.
Every corner. Every turn
something new to discover and
enjoy.

You're mine. Stay mine, baby.
*Forever.