oh lovely lady

i can tell from the way
you fill up your days
that you've gone and gotten older.
you sleep somewhat more responsibly
and your coffee's gotten darker.
i've watched you flower
out of the hours we planted,
for a good year we've toiled
and it's all i really wanted.
there is too much about you
that is easy to miss:
your hands like sheets,
your chlorophyl kiss,
the way your rings make purple
rings around your fingers,
the way we say goodnight three
times, and then linger,
the way your rainbow appears
long before the rain,
the way you always sit near
the back of a bus or train,
the way you look at me
even when you're angry,
the way your nose goes cold
if it drops a couple degrees,
the way your elbows make scarecrows
out of the straw in me,
the way the lines of your smile
straighten the miles of storms,
the way your perfume drips
from the petals of your lips,
the way your hip bones pierce
the fierce fog of night,
and your eyes rubbed clean
from a dream of a year,
you're a woman more than ever.
happy birthday, sweet dear.