you place polaroids on your fridge with care
safekeeping those days like a sacred tome,
freshly baked cinnamon rolls fill the air—
in this cold city, yours is a warm home.

not scents, not flavours—'tis our laughs that bind,
my best friend—always gentle—through the years
our anthem softly echoes in my mind
and times, easy or hard, will have me near.

a cat now purrs beside your lover's chair,
old love stays like a quiet snowy day
you called me with the news you longed to share—
screams! diamond ring! you danced the night away.

but remember a country song that plays
our cinnamon start, our friendship's first page
"it was the end of a decade," it'd say,
"but the start of an age"—our age, our age.