Poem for her 231

Dear Readers,



Summer Mondays

The porch swing at noon is almost stopped
It was swinging early on with the breeze
But now with the heat of noon rolling in
It has paused it's shifting sway
The two of us are in the cabin
In the living room dining area with
Paints and some big sheets of paper
And a few old shirts we are painting up
To be some sort of art work and something
That when worn gardening can make us
Just disappear in the foliage with a shirt on
She is better at the colors than I am
I just want to brush her fingers with mine
The cool inside air chilled some what more
With coolness of the Hunter fans above our head
And soft lights of sun filtered in nothing harsh
It is the afternoon to snooze in the pool
Of the big couch and just laze about
Drinking chilled home made lemon aide
Chilled inside from the heat and humidity
Of the front porch swinging this morning
Hearing each other sleep through the night
Soft touches on the paper of paints and laughs
She sings a tune I can just about guess
And I want to kiss her elbow and hum too
We drift off to afternoon naps and sleep


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.