Poem for her 275

Dear Readers,



Roses


I stood at my backyard gate
She was on the phone
It was a nice day
As any day talking to her is
The sun was shining
The conversation divine
She was loving me with her voice
The day was cold where she was
I was in shirt sleeves
I wanted to dance
She was loving me with her voice
The birds danced in the hedges
The poems were flowing
But not yet this set
She was saying later
That morning her feet moved
She danced sitting down
She was singing a song
I love you it said
One hundred roses
One hundred ways
The days are long since then
The roses still red and
The songs still heard
As she sings them steady
In my ear close by


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.