In a world of digital traces, past love's glow, Still I log in, to a Netflix you bestow. Though our paths diverged, our love stories ended, Through episodes and films, our memories blended.
I ponder if she knows, or if she even cares, While I sneak into her realm, from my solitary lairs. It's not about the movies, or the series we've seen, But the moments we shared, in a digital dream.
So here's to the nights, with popcorn and thrill, To the love that once was, that time cannot kill. Of all things mysterious, one left me beguiled, The hue of her bicycle, wild and reviled.
I’ve seen it in passing, a blur and a gleam, But the shade of its paint remains but a dream. Is it vibrant and fiery, like roses in June? Or gentle and calming, like light of the moon?
So, in playful jest and in digital jesters, I posed her a challenge, among Netflix testers. “Make it a profile, that color so fine, Let the name of that shade in bold letters align.”
For each time I log in, and our choices entwine, I'll glimpse that secret color, and know it's a sign. A nod to our bond, in laughter and profile, The shade of her bicycle, shared for a while.
