Poem for her 259

Dear Readers,



Mint Tea


The cup was in her hand
As cups go this was a large one
The cup was bought years ago
In a city they had gone often
It was part of a set
Their set of dishes
Today as often happened
It was filled with Mint Tea
Her shoulders were sore
He was rubbing them
Telling her about something
Or as often was the case
Whispering some sweet story
Of how the flowers talked
About them as they passed
In the long walks
They took places
Flowers do a lot of talking
The Bees buzz and the flowers
Chatter about
Lovers walking among them



Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.