Poem for her 617

Dear Readers,


The backyard Swing

The trees didn't cover it
But the shade does
The swing had been there a while
The trees are to the south,
So the shade is always northward
The swing gets morning and evening light
You sit there smiling
Knowing I am filming you
Knowing the camera is at the ready
Just not yet focused on you
You are holding a flower
One from the yard
There in the close-in frame
Your hand and it
The flower is a small yellow one
One of the wild ones
You are wild yourself
Held just so, by a flower
And the camera eye
And our fingers on the other hand
Slowly touching
Slowly forgetting the camera
Kissing each other
By the fingers twining


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.