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Postcard from Home - English Sonnet

by Paganini Jones



On coming home there's little things I'd miss
If they were't there: a steaming cup of tea,
The scent of toast, the warming gas fire's hiss,
And best of all the way you welcome me.

Your smile is like a happy tabby's purr,
Without the kneeding claws that snag and catch,
Like bright church bells and joyful Christmas fir,
Or grandma's quilt with love in every patch.

I love to watch you sleep with simple grace
Or run and run until you're quite worn out.
If you left me how would I fill that place
Where love embraces all within, without?

But yet, the time must come when I'll play God
For you are growing old, my faithful dog.

Postcard on which to write this sonnet

05/08/2011

Author's Note:
Oh dear oh dear! Bleugh! That's what comes of trying to be clever and write a sonnet when there's nothing worth saying.It's that last couplet, maybe just the last line. How about "For you are growing old my faithful dog" instead of the current last line?

Posted on 05/07/2011
Copyright © 2024 Paganini Jones

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Charlie Morgan on 05/08/11 at 01:19 AM

...no bleughing here, and several things we feel like we missed with in our poetics, well wasn't missed by some...a restful and glad write on 'a coming home'...i shared in it.

Posted by Linda Fuller on 05/09/11 at 12:18 AM

What a lovely poem and a charming picture! I think I prefer the last line in your author's comment; however, then the couplet throws a shadow on the entire poem, but I guess that's your intent judging by the second-to-last line. Oh, these creatures and their impending ends which hover over every joyful moment if we're aware!

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