Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #480
Our Little House by Belinda Roddie Our little house sits under drooping trees that bear autumnal colors in the sun, and a redwood pokes its head out and sees the hope brimming on golden horizon. In here, we will have tea and try to build new memories worthy of remembrance, and from the attic I'll grab costumes frilled that we can wear while we both drink and dance. Our little house has two bedrooms, a yard for romping and warm flames and starry skies that we can gaze us. I shall play the bard and compose songs about your sapphire eyes. Yes, let's pretend the world isn't quite shit as, in our little house, we rest a bit.
