Poem for her 692

Dear Readers,


The table clothe


I once asked her what was on the table
Then the line of thought streamed by
There have been many a game there
The art projects might be there
We have a folding table or two for them
That way they can be set up
Done
And out of the way for dinner
As they aren't at the breakfast table
Or is it the dinner table
The one with the green clothe
The one with leaves
The other with flowers
The plain ones
The painted in outlines
The ones she made
The ones I helped with
She's a special artist
Smooths my rough edges
Soothes me with a whisper
Soft giggle
In my ear
Feels so nice on tippy toe
Springing into my side cat like
Curled and close
Slow as I might
She speeds me faster and faster
As I see her round the corner
White skirt on

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.