Poem for her 305

Dear Readers,


Irish Cream

The flavor of the lip balm
The flavor in the coffee mug
The shot to the side of the plate
The chocolate just eaten there
The main dish served hot and fresh
The idea of a bottle on the shelf
The kiss of two on the dance floor
The soft touch on bare ankle
The pull of fingers at the belt loop
The chilled glass of tasty smells
Then the kiss of lips to lips
The flavor that might be minty too
Things mixed and tried later
The chocolate still soft and dripped
Fingers typing the notes of menu
The still air of the porch swing
Drifting with the scents of the day
The sighs made at the thoughts said
Night full of stars and the whisper
Of turquoise silk on the cotton pillow


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.