Martie,this is for you....


She writes of things we cannot see,
for only through her eyes they show.
She tells of birds, of honeybees,
she takes us to her picture show.

She loves to fish, she loves to chat,
she loves to write, to wear a hat.
She likes to see our hearts beat strong,
This woman, my friend, a soft song.

She comes to us through pages blue,
and brings a flower, a rose or two.
The delivery is her choice of work,
and alleys she balks at and shirks.

She wears the wind within her eyes,
the golden girl of poetic surprise.
She carries a wine, a grape so firm,
it’s all just a part of tequila’s worm.

She is a friend, a chosen friend
of months who shares her dreams.
She is there to help a heart mend,
A nurse she is, it certainly seems.

Dear one, I want you to have this little token, a token of friendship, admiration and perhaps a twinge
of jealousy......FOR NOBODY writes like you do!!!!

Always,

Barry