Night,
and the yellow pleasure of candle-light….
old brown books and the kind, fine face of the clock
fogged in the veils of the fire – it’s cuddling tock.
The cat,
greening her eyes on the flame-litten mat;
wickedly, wakeful she yawns at the rain
bending the roses over the pane,
and a bird in my heart begins to sing
over and over the same sweet thing—
Safe in the house with my boyhood’s love
and our children asleep in the attic above.
(Hugh McCrae)
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Based on Topics: Night Poems, Fire Poems, Birds Poems, Cats PoemsBased on Keywords: thing-, wickedly, cuddling, fogged, tock