Poem for her 660

Dear Readers,


Stew beans and carrots and onions

There is those recipe books
Filled with hers and mine
Slight of tailored talents telling tastes
The slow boil of the things she makes
The fast burst of hot and not of mine
We'd honed the skills over the decades
We hadn't seen each other yet
Then the butterfly flies in and
The slow ant walks over and says
Aardvark is not my name
Hit it off was slow in showing
The flowers of summer can be dense
Or few and intense
The soul split once and then
The soul butterfly and ant flew together
Again
Long slow days
The flowers many
All around her head and feet


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.