Poem for her 535

Dear Readers,


Sunday Dinner


That Meal that might be a single pot
But might be 20 courses yet only us
The day that is slower than the rest
The clouds might be in full bloom
The sun could be high in the sky
The walks in the park long and slow
The dinner waiting or a picnic spread
There is as many ways this meal could be
As there are sundays on our charts
The one steadfast event is You and me
There in a warm room or cool place
With food out spread and a meal ready
The various ways not limited by these lines
Just that you and me babe have a meal
On a sunday time scale and then
The rest of the week together
That has you walking in the dew once
And has a picture of your hands on film

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.