Poem for her 407

Dear Readers,


The black tank top


The mirror in the bathroom still steamy
The chill outside such that once showered
We were not going out till we had to
The firewood stacked inside high enough
To keep the chill out most of the week
Snow we didn't shovel except for the steps
You asked what color, which strap kind
I said Black, Tank top, you smiled
As I pulled at it's hem at the bottom
The smile in the mirror shined back at me
The morning was just getting started
What art project would we do today
What would we cook for breakfast
Coffee Hot steamy in Our cup on the counter
Had to be warmed up later again
And the black tank top put on again


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.