Dearest,
The sangría was exactly like you described. Your advice to squeeze the cuts of lemon, lime and orange in then stir the slices to the bottom flavored each glass enough so the scent of the wine waned away to a peak freshness. I wasn’t sure about the fried oysters at first. The slivers of smoked zucchini turned the fried taste on its head and I was left with musically rich moments. I’m not sure if it was the first afternoon of fine weather or it was eating on the patio or if it was the oysters themselves, but I had a flourish of inspiration. That instant lent me suggestions that I haven’t been able to escape since and, truthfully, never really want to. You were almost there with me. I think it was the oysters.
Your love.
— Matthew Porubsky
The Coop: A Poetry Cooperative 
I enjoyed your poem, expressing an appreciative, sensuous feeling. Very nice.