Poem for her 861

Dear Readers,


Razor racing

The window pane had paint on it
The Razor was slicing it off
Slowly

The sharpness was there at the edge
I was careful
I wanted some gone
Some left
Some right
Some pink
One blue dot

She was there watching me
She had a smile on her face
I smiled back

Someone asked
Are you a spy
She said
I don't know

I said

Yes she is

Or maybe just a blue dot
On a window pane

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.