Poem for her 679

Dear Readers,


Three of three


There that red again
Ribbed and textured
The stop gap there soft
The touch of it
The feel of it
The taste of it's smell

Slow the flower was put in the vase
The cutting of these roses
They were all over the fence
This stem was long
The head of the rose still closed
But opening up
Not yet
Almost

This red rose was on a long stem
All the others on the bush
Short and compact
This one Long stemmed
Then cut
Then here to bloom
The only vase
Only flower
Only green table clothe
Only table
One cabin
The woods
The Soul

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.