_My cat sat on my mat,_

_He was chewing on my crayons, like he was… like he was…_

“Sara! What rhymes with crayons?”

“What?” Sara called down the stairs

“What, rhymes, with, craynon’s?” Mike yelled, pausing at the end of every word.

“Umm. Spray on’s? I don’t know.”

“No, that doesn’t fit! Something else!”

Mike heard the pounding on the stairs as Sara trundled down.

“What do you want Mikel?” She asked, uncurling one of the over tight curlers from her brown hair. Staring down at him, he stood up so as not to feel so ‘beneath’ her, but even with is back straitened to its fullest he was still feet from her height.

“I need a word that rhymes with Crayons.”

“Why?” She winced as she caught a knot in her hair.

“Just cause, ok?”

“If you don’t tell me, I’m not giving you a ryming word. And hurry up, I have to leave soon.” She said, glancing at the clock hang above the couch.

“Oh please, prince carming can wait”

“What’s it for?” She repeated.

“I’m writing a poem.”

“A poem?”

“Is something wrong with your ears? Yes, a poem,” he said, dragging out the last word.

“Is it for a girl?”

“No! I just, I have to, its for school ok? Can you think of a word or not?”

“Oh I can thing of plenty, patrons, eons, seconds.”

“Stop, stop stop.” Mike said, stumbling over his words as he bent down to write his fresh idea.

_My cat sat on my mat,_

_He was chewing on my crayons, _

_the time between now and seeing you feels like eons, _

_but hours spent with you only feel like seconds_

_I wish I knew how to say this…say this…say _

“Could you stop breathing down my neck?”

“So-rry.” Sara said dramatically, raising her hands in serender, the last curler in her hand.

_I wish I knew how to say this without ryming,_

_But I guess it never feels like the right timeing._

_Sorry this is long._

_But I had to speak._

_We can still just be friend though, i just wanted you to know_

_P.S. please don’t tell anyone, I sent this to you._

_From Mike, To Jamie_