Poem for her 226

Dear Readers,



Frilly Fridays


The lace on the top of her shirt
The feeling she gives me when our hands touch
Eight minutes past Eight PM when I hear her say
...Reset and she runs to the lobby
Only to show back up wearing lacy things
She smiles when I ask her where is the sword
You all wonder why this is even in a poem
I smile and say why not
Frilly chills when I hand her the last
Ice cream on a stick from the ice box
Until the last bite we share of caramel pie
Dripping off the spoon
Landing and gazed at with longing
Frilly chills of goose bumps as the
Cold drops of spring rain slide off her nose
In the chilled house in the city
Longingly looked at as we kiss
The caramel pie's empty pan and spoon still
Able to drip useful drops


Happy Birthday Babe,


Charles.