Poem for her 910

Dear

 

Right  there was the first splash of paint

The canvas was wet

The brushes all set out

She smiled at the colors I had picked

Watched as the sails took shape

The lines she painted were colors of hues unknown

The sails I drew were flowers on stems

Or were they just flapping in the sea breeze up on deck

The Boat took shape and form

Duel painting mode

She this line called Something

Me that sail called wind in the willows

The boat wouldn't be finished today

Or maybe not till a week hence

Yet the pattern was clear

Dear

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.