Poem for her 730

Dear Readers,


Those ages of sages

The flowers were blooming
Some were yellow and white
Others mixed even the reds
Roses and you
Felt you move as we drifted
On a light nap
On the swing
The race to get all the seeds
Sorted out and filed
Soft sounds of our tails
Swishing as the swing moved
Two big older cats
On a porch swing
The wall near by sighed
The tree out front by the dogwood said
May I have a feather Pillow too
I smiled and you stirred awake
You looked at the young tree said Yes
Of course you can
Then you smiled at me
Said
Let it be so
The birds landed in the tree
100's of them
The tree laughed a slow laughter
The cabin sighed as only it could do
The birds all said

Happy Birthday Babe,


Charles.