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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s