Poem for her 477

Dear Readers,


The Sweater

The chill of spring and your arms cool
The sweater one of many hung in closet
Folded on the shelf and being made by hand
Those items that seem warm just by look
The colors of the Icelandic wool soft
The earth tones and shades of beige
The sweater that you wore that day in may
The one that you wore on the date last week
The one on your arms right now all warm
All different and many more to hold
Soft furry feel but not furry
Soft colors or bold and wine flavored
The feel of them in my hands
When you are in them is relaxing
And when they are on a shelf I see you
They play over your frame and I see you
I see you as you read these lines
And I smile as I know your face
Warmed by the thought of sweaters
Warmed by the thought of our kisses

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.