cold to the bone


i am very young   it is sunday   my

father is home   it

is his day off   too cold to 


play golf or fish   he reads the news

paper   hands

me the funnies   as they were


called   once upon a time   i 

find where the

sun comes through the window   makes


a quadrangle on the carpet   i sit in the

light   legs crossed   bent

over the paper   shoulders aching   find what


warmth there is in the shape-shifting light   follow

its path across the floor






Poetry by one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 161 times
Written on 2018-11-15 at 17:34

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Here in Kathmandu, during winter, we sit on a porch or terrace, reading newspaper and lazying around. I can very much relate to your poem, and I like the reference of "shape-shifting" light.


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
For the most part, my house is warm enough (though the pipes freeze from time to time), but I still chase that sunny spot. As any cat will tell you, it's a great place to nap.

Coo & Co The PoetBay support member heart!
All at Coo & Co felt the cold in this, otp. That is partly because our FT grew up in a cold house too. We like the sunny quadrangle and the action of following the light. 'Yay!' (mossops concur) :>)