Little Me

My house is my home
And it goes where I roam
And as I grow big
So does it.
It’s always my size
Never too tight a fit
Though I eat and I graze
All night long.
Though it’s comfy and warm
And it keeps me from harm
I never eat in; watch TV.
So tonight I’ll eat out
While the birds not about
And I hope you won’t
Mind little me.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©


Photo Challenge:Out of the cold

P1060110

It’s cold

And the winter darkness draws in

As snow threatens from low hanging clouds.

There is an iciness in the air

Seeping into your very bones

And although you rub your hands together

And stamp your feet,

Your breath hangs like cloud in the air.

Nothing can make you warm

The whole world seems frozen.

 

And then you reach your doorstep

And the lights are on:

 

The door opens and the heat hits

Bringing an ache of warmth

As you remove fingers one by one

From your gloves.

The rich smell of cinnamon bake wafts

From the kitchen

And there’s a welcome voice and a bear hug

to greet you.

And then a little hand creeps

Into your big hand

And pulls you giggling and unresisting

Towards the glowing embers of

A log fire.

And you melt into what is

Home.

 

Photo and words copyright by Englepip©

 

via Photo Challenge: Glow