Poem for her 459

Dear Readers,


Bacon


The cabin smelled of bacon fried
The kitchen had the aroma intense
The table had a pile in a bowl
And a pile on a plate hers and mine
I like mine a little under done and tiny
She likes hers crispy and slices
The eggs were on another plate and shared
The fork was in her hands and my mouth
The day was like any other yet today
Was special it was the 19th of dec
The day a phone call was made and heard
Voices of two people and then
The rest is a history told in bits
Of poems and things like notes
In a scrapbook that has a blue cover
The pages get filled and then as they do
They are put up in binders and new blanks
Fill the blue binder again so we write
The page with chocolate on its etching
Seems to make another appearance often
The bacon smell covers today's entry slightly
The smell of the taste of it on her lips
Remembered here in this poem

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.