Poem for her 96

Dear Readers,


Monday Mornings on a Friday

You know it is odd when you wake up early
Then you think it's got to be a mistake
Today isn't monday Morning, but it is like that song
Manic mondays
What makes your head a little weak
Just gets worse and worse
The pillow wasn't there
The bed wasn't yours
The day wasn't the way you dreamed it
All blissful and calm in a cabin
But there we were not at home
Having to be elsewhere
Dealing with Backache inducing things

So after a bit of reflection
In a plate glass window
We stood and held hands
Thinking it wasn't as bad as it seemed
Stood and talked about the day
Calmed down a bit more
Talked a bit more
Agreed it was really only Friday
We'd still have the afternoon to buy one more box
Of Pick up sticks
We'd buy the paint ourselves
Glow in the dark, fourteen only

Friday's aren't always as bad as they could be
It's just that this Monday the Friday was confused
It woke up in a strange place
And had to have it's Cell Phone friend replaced
So it's still not on the right day
But it does have something
It sees that You and I are still hugging
In front of the fireplace
Playing cribbage
And snuggling with our flannel PJ's
The ones we made today
While talking on the new Cell Phone in a parking lot

Hugs and kisses and long gazes in a mirror
Steady voice as I cheer you on


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.