Poem for her 654

Dear Readers,


Dear Soul

Our hands together
The mirror shows you and Gold stripes
The blonde eye lashes darkened
With each careful stroke
The video rings with laughter
Yours
I am oddly voiced
Phone held past door frame
I am naked
You are getting ready
I could go too
But I am filming
Angle to get you both
Front and back
As I say with words not these
Mentally I was stuttering
Your kiss
Off camera
But sweet lips sounding
I love to kiss you
Ankles
Toes
Sole of foot
Fresh washed or not
I share with you
This Soul of ours
Matched with a delicate touch
Sweet nothings in your sock drawer
Sent second by second
Not from my hand
They come here
From heaven
Pass me and I say
To her fly
They already knew the way
Touch of the butter fly wings
Though this week it's still a blue tail
The paintings via text
Aw sweet
The flowers here
Dew damp
Almost a flood
But skies clear
The moon was high all night
Once or twice off Harvest
I could see the missing edges
I wanted the dawn
Sighting the moon
Take account of the eastern ridge
Said Sunrise two hours
Then back to videos
And tweets and sweets and You
Thoughts held in phone
Data held fast
Memory sliced
The morning is here
Off to work or where ever
There we are
At Home

Happy Birthday Babe

Charles.