B.F.T., I love thee

Thy giveth me beautiful shoes

Each day I ponder, wilt thou have shoes for me?

I read thine messages, my heart breaks.

Wilt thou have a Delman?

A Tess Classic?

Wilt thou carry me from season to season?

Oh B.F.T. I love thee

Art thou buried under ten feet of snow?

Wilt thou have packages for me, from FedEx?

Wilt thou have shoes for me?

Again?

And Again?

Oh, B.F.T. I grow lonely without thee

I read thine messages, and wonder,

Art thine messages for me?

Or art thine messages for one fairer, with golden hair and bluer eyes?

B.F.T., Whatfor wilt thou have for me?

Wilt thou have shoes for me, to feast mine eyes upon?

To hearken my soul toward?

To empty my purse for?

I canst not ponder our aloneness.

B.F.T. I would give the world for thee

B.F.T. I love thee