With Plastic, No Hibernating
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[The following poem is written in the "Seven-Ten" format invented by Emile J. Pinet, a Canadian poet. It is a non-rhyme, 22-line verse with 190 syllables.]
Soft feathered-ticking mattress
(Old-fashioned country comfort)
Not found in our local furniture store
At least in my neighborhood anymore
Only rubbery foam-like bedding suits,
Feels like lounging on cardboard
When sound sleep is slow coming
So, yes, I am complaining about it.
Oh, how I miss the pure joy of downy
Fleece on my clean pajama-clad body
Sighing from my daily care
Burrowing into that cave,
Snuggling up, generating my own heat
On a stormy night in dead of winter;
But now, with plastic, no hibernating,
No fond pleasure come nightfall
Sleeping in Grandma's sweet bed
Musing about my childhood years cozy
There in that chilly bedroom with no stove
With lamp on, I could see my steamy breath
While my toes were toasty warm,
Sweet dreams nourishing my soul.
written November 3, 2021
Copyright © L Milton Hankins | Year Posted 2021
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