Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #381
I Made A Star
by Belinda Roddie
I made a star of clay on Christmas night,
worth more to me than any pound of gold,
or silver, or any sweet beauty bright.
I offered it to my grandfather old,
who sat in his rocking chair by the frost
that collected on the window. He said,
"Well, what a star that the sweet sky has lost!
Though it be clay, this star is far from dead,
for it still shines despite its earthen tones
and its brown shades. I'll keep it forever,
arranging it with other precious stones."
The years I spent with him became a blur,
but I remembered the dirt on my hands
after molding the cosmos from hot sands.
by Belinda Roddie
I made a star of clay on Christmas night,
worth more to me than any pound of gold,
or silver, or any sweet beauty bright.
I offered it to my grandfather old,
who sat in his rocking chair by the frost
that collected on the window. He said,
"Well, what a star that the sweet sky has lost!
Though it be clay, this star is far from dead,
for it still shines despite its earthen tones
and its brown shades. I'll keep it forever,
arranging it with other precious stones."
The years I spent with him became a blur,
but I remembered the dirt on my hands
after molding the cosmos from hot sands.
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