Poem for her 132

Dear Readers,


When


When she was born there might have been
Just as there was with me
Snow when we were born
Different Places and times and years
But When
We was born they called out the snow

When she was sliding her hands into mine
I was there and also
In the dream of hers she had had over again
And again into long dark dreaming nights
And also sitting across from her most
Recently just a few thought beats ago

When she was last thought about was
Always just the last thought second ago
By God always, just like He thinks of All of us
But also of by me in my last thought second
Ago as I sent her a voice mail as she is
Not here in our house right this minute

When she reads these lines I do not know
As she is not here here, but is also
Always here, though this second and for a
Slice of time that has no length
I can confirm to you, she is off
Visiting her family of sliced Time not of my DNA

When I Say not of my DNA I am mostly true but
It is always true I am always human like her
So we two share DNA with all you dear readers too
But her slices of DNA also would be called
Family slices of DNA true to her genetic
Chemical traces and the smells of fresh baked goods

When she opens the boxes of their smells
And the folks in the room smell the goodness
Of the items she makes for them
And the smile of the Box in her last
Voicemail I have to listen too, I have
In green and red that says Filled with Joy

When she then reads these words I am
In a coded sing song voice saying and reading
And 77 to her about, I hope she sees the other
Favor of the color and the need to know
Can she once more open the box of the
Insect and leave the imprint once again to me

When she is only 8 and riding her bike to the
Lake and the telescope and the Boy in blue glasses
To late sees the glassy mud puddle and over his
Handle bars goes into the Pond that later
Is their first home's back yard Bar B Que
Pit where they Roast a bird clock into ashes

When it's not exactly the way it could happen
But when in the rattle background you hear
The dump trucks up and at them and the
Day is beginning She'll be in resuming
A job hunt again I'll just pause and say
Executive Section A Tarry you are, have been mine

When I opened a story line last night after
You and I parted the slice of timeline
And you were mentioning the thoughts of the day
And you thought you had fished to the high
You are as my CEO is you is also
The executive sect Deck of cards over there

Can you see When I say that you have worked
Long hours for long years and you don't
Have to have had a hunk of paper issued
To say you have walking up and down flights
Been an EX O SECT. That is a Chef within
The offices of The Boss, aka Someone that

Gets the things done, but is almost as
The boss when the boss is not done and left the
Golf course of other place of gone-ness
You hold the Keys to my heart and Clan
You is me and I am always forever
Sliding me everything into your sheet of paper


Happy Birthday Babe

Charles