Poem for her 169

Dear Readers,


The Cloak


It was made for me in the last century
It fits her nicely and she wears it well
I want to bundle her up in it and go places
I want to see her in a castle in it
I want her places we have never gone
See her in the moor light fogs
Black on one side Red on the other
It is old and she is young in my eyes
The mirror is always telling her
I love you, smile, be of good cheer
The cloak is something I wore once
She'll wear it a lot more than me
Warm in the winter chill held close
Long into the cabin days or city house
Held tight in my arms as she wears the Cloak


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.