The Houseguest

My 5-year old best buddy spent the night.
Among the stuff he brought – a cuddle friend
as long as he, he toted, bedded, white
and orange, sleepy-faced, and at the end
abandoned, on departure out of sight
a moment, left for me to apprehend.
It’s soft and clean. It shows amusing face.
But it’s a little giant in my place.

(Ottava Rima)

This entry was posted in Family, Home, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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