Poem for her 261

Dear Readers,



Fingers Laced


Sitting there across from each other
Standing watching the rain off the porch
Sitting on a porch swing
Sitting on a couch just thinking

Days when the only thing we want to do
...Is fingers laced and the world go by

At nap time and lace fingers of hand
...so that we sleep that way for the time

Standing at the shop looking at something
Walking in the pathways of wherever

Merging skin to be inside her hands
Never knowing where I start or end
The thought is from the experience
That once I touch her I am her
Sliding hands into the edges of
Where my soul is already

Happy Birthday Babe,


Charles.