>
Oh what a night
Late December back in ‘63
She entered a fiesta world
a Latin girl with a root
word for me
A pure form
tucked on a shelf
in the secret
end of the stacks
a book mark of
rose petal
In a quiet place
whispers came
when my heart
faint a beat
she became free
verse laid on
the dark night
of my soul
Her breathing became
a deep press on my
essence
and grace became her
and grace became us
yet not this word
lay in the page
in the stacks
It was another
selfless
soft
love fell out
as I opened the page
and a petal
I placed in my
breast pocket
There is none
so written in my life
there is none
Happy Birthday Barbara
2010 December 22
Gerald the Writer 
>"She became verse on the dark night of my soul." That is a love poem within a love poem. Good one, jerry – and you better read it aloud to her.
>Beautiful … so much love!
>this is extremely – breath-taking lovelyhappy birthday to your wife as well
>You're an old softy.. ..smiles..
>so beautiful, Jerry. Happy birthday to your love. And Christmas blessings to you!
>Romantic, sweet-natured, solid.
>A love poem that literally reminds me of a book of love the way some phrases continue into following lines, coupled with the imagery, I imagined turning pages. Happy Birthday to Barbara. And Merry Christmas!
>wow…i wish i had written this for my wife as well – my post this week was a celebration of our anniversary…a wonderful story of love…thanks for the share…pete