Poem for her 270

Dear Readers,


Dancing


The dew on the carpet of clover wet
On our feet as we hand in hand
Dance the morning glow into
The time we will be flowers

Planted in a garden
Seen by the wind and the rain
But not picked
Standing tall and always
At full bloom

Dancing on the cabin floor
Carpet and hardwood
Both soft under foot
Bare as they are

Dancing in the afternoon
The place not yet known
The room semi dark
Just you and me
There slipping hand in hand

Dancing with you babe
Till the world spins not
Till the world spins not
Dancing with you babe


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles