Poem for her 876

Dear Readers,


Cups of tea



Twenty five cups of tea later
We still couldn't decide
Which color to paint the canvas first
We think it was the third day
Yet it might have only been
Since noon

The sun was shining in the windows
The art supplies were still neat
Stacked in all the places
The Murphy bed put up
I think
She might have had it still out
Over there behind a wall

The canvas whispered softly
Paint me
Paint me
Then one more kind of tea to try
Hot water
Sweet stuff
Hot cream
Some more heat

The paints came out
The canvas smiled
No notice that the paints were many
Just a smile
Painted on the canvas


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.