Poem for her 404

Dear Readers,


Whoa the answers are that a 404 error arrived and you can't see the website, But that is so strange you were there just 20 minutes ago, what happened. Those pesky bullfrogs ate the pizza. The slices of time that My poems to her are sliced out of Heaven and bits of earth and forest floor and the sheet music I called God's post it notes, are always being dripped on the heads of pins and penned in on a page like this one. To many thoughts going on in my head and she is cold at the time of this writing, but when she reads these lines I hope she'll be a bit warmer, Where she is right this second is relative to the place she is right now ( now being the time of my writing and the time of your reading both at the same time ) her outside the house is 14 degree F, hard freeze state. Licks lips and gets out the thought threads.


The Neck of the Woods


The cloak was full of Red and Black
The cloak fell to the floor and sighed
The cloak was warm and not dismayed
The neck was finally warm and a bit wet
The tongue was still talking but just slow
Slowly the words were formed on the surface
The skin was wet again and the neck sighed
The sound of the sigh low and mewing
The cloak was happy it landed next to pillow
On pillow was her head and mine and sighs
The cloak was draped about our forms
We were finally HOME and not as cold now
On the floor next to the fireplace
That was a pile of red hot embers from earlier
The night outside was very cold
But inside we were warm and comfy
The sounds of her saying something
The sounds of me saying something
Then the sounds of mewing again and again


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.