Poem for her 644

Dear Readers,


Soft

The day was rough
The road trips rougher
The soft glow of forest moon muted
There the day to mow gone again
The rain just enough
The worry of sons just so achy
Head was awash in that dull pain
Soft hands touch your neck
The smells of mint and chocolate
A raisin handed you
The taste what you want it to be
There in your mind's eye
The day eases by slowly
The voice telling you of sweet nothings
The feet rubbed
The calves massaged
The socks put on if you like
The fingers soft to back and shoulders
Whispers of things that comfort
The glow down low
The soft ease of night

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.