Poem for her 711

Dear Readers,


The special number


This block number has several layers
It was the number on my Van's license
It was a brand name store
It is the number of this poem
It is the name of a song I have
Yet to write
The saying goes like this
When you hear a tune
The subject of which is
Something that you see
You see the tune in a light
Not heard of in the song's words
Meanings bend in the breeze
The light turns a corner
Prism slipping rays
The Rainbow appears and I say
Hi rainbow
Then Sunshine is near at hand
She stands there phone in hand
Or the pastry brush cookie dough
Or the Warm mug
Filled full of tea or java or
Just the soup we made last night
There her being feeds me full
When she isn't there nothing fills me
Food has no taste
Just a placement holder for her smile

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.