Written upon hearing about the little cat of a friend in poor health of advancing years.
Mon Doux Petit
Mon doux petit
Late evening. is it not;
Such great lights ablaze over Eastern skies
Seem the same as always
Strange tides that turn and twist away the nights
Never the same with so much change
An aching in the bones sometimes
Weary rivers of pain threaded beads along the bones
Are cast mon doux petit
So long ago, all unforseen
Bless you for the affection and warmth of heart
You forever shall brighten my shadowed days,
Together then let us go, you and I
Wherever time may wind it's bit of wry mirth
And all my love
Mon doux petit
Late evening, is it not;
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2023-05-27 at 21:49
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