Ode to the OCOOPA: A Love-Warmed Tale
In dawn’s cold hush * by the ocean’s side,
Where winter’s breath and waves collide,
She braves the sea, my fearless queen,
A cold-water swimmer, bold and keen.
But chill creeps in through tide and toe,
A frost that only love could know—
So I sought a gift, a warming spark,
To light her path through waters dark.
Enter OCOOPA, sleek and small,
A hero born for cold’s cruel call.
Rechargeable, magnetic might,
A pocket sun in morning’s light.
She clicks them on with practiced flair,
Then tucks them in her boots * with care.
While ocean bites with icy grace,
Warmth is waiting—just in place.
Out she comes, her swim complete,
And greets the shore on numbing feet.
But not for long! In boots * they go,
Those little heaters ward the snow.
Into her robe, those hands dive deep,
Where cozy warmth begins to seep.
Toasty feet, and fingers bright—
No frost can dim her post-swim light.
She smiles, serene, her joy * is clear,
And holds me close, her warmth draws near.
No diamonds, roses, need apply—
Just gadgets that keep cold days dry.
So here’s the truth, both neat and brief:
A warmer brought more than relief.
The moral glows, devoid of strife:
Happy wife… you know the rest—happy life.
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