Poem for her 888

 Blonde hair in the wind

Tuesday or was it Saturday

She was at the gate to the garden

The fence was finished

We'd been trying to keep animals out

This fence seemed better

Two whole weeks

And lots of crops

None taken by deer

A few birds sat looking at her

I told them they needed to leave us some berries

They just looked at me

She spoke

They flew off

I think it was Saturday.

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.