Romantic
overtures are in the air, as Abigail pens
another heartfelt paean to her latest love.
What rhymes with splendid? Searching for just
the right word, Abigail stays cool and elegant
in her spring-fresh morning robe, a few stray
curls roaming her noble brow and carelessly
sweeping the white ruched neckline tipped
with gold. Who is this mysterious swain who
occupies her every thought? A young noble?
A magistrate's troubled but good-hearted nephew?
Or could it be the tousle-headed stable boy
with the piercing blue eyes and confident
way with the fillies?
