‘Can you believe its been a year?’ she purrs, regal

in candle flickering illumination, sublimating scene,

back arched, cast in relief, an exotic shadow dream.

Acquiescence breeds. Settling, she posits,

‘Poor thing, under siege. Twelve months with me

can’t have been-’

easy tenure, I assure her.

We swap smiles like campfire tales

in the flame lit blanket wilderness

and hold each other for warmth.

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