poem- it’s raining

WHO CAN AFFORD A WOODSTOVE…IN A CITY APARTMENT? WHO’S GOING TO CHOP THE WOOD AND CLEAN OUT THE ASHES, HMMM?

Shawn L. Bird

I’m chilled to the bone.

I wish for a wood stove:

that crackle and flash,

heat that sinks in deep,

defines cozy comfort,

makes me want to sleep.

I can hear my mother,

If you’re cold, put on a sweater!

I want a wood stove:

the summer scent on  logs,

I want

warm feet on a hassock,

hot cup of tea,

well-written mystery.

Fine, Mother.

I’ll get a sweater, too.

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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