Yellow Roses and Strawberries

Yellow roses, an even dozen less one
Sit arranged on the bedside nightstand,
Fresh picked strawberries and chilled cream
Beside them, our breakfast close to hand.

The new-borne day has quickly arrived
And I see the sun rising in my side view,
As the first exploding rays catch me
Hammering westbound to get home to you.

You stretch languidly and smile in your sleep
Knowing even in your dreams I’m on my way,
Even though late last night I called you from Erie
You still hear my promise I’ll be back today.

I race against the scurrying minutes
As the rig runs on between the lines,
Putting Louisville in my back pocket at last
I feel the seconds drag like clinging vines.

Parking the tractor I gently close the door
As I watch the windows for you stirring inside,
I rush to the door and quietly enter through
And creep upstairs where under covers you hide.

Smiling, I kiss you beside the eleven yellow roses
With the missing one clutched in your hand,
And the fresh strawberries and chilled cream
Await our hunger on the bedside nightstand.

c. May 28, 1998