Richard Pierce


Charlotte’s birthday poem


A cloudless sky,
One month, almost, into autumn,
Colding nights,
The scent of burning leaves;
Crisp shadows
Under the fullest moon.

The holiest miracle,
Brought us you,
One more treasure
Of our lives.

A beautiful note,
One chord, almost, into the song,
Clear crystal,
The scent of new perfume;
Voices dancing,
Flower in fullest bloom.

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