Dedicated to Golden Lovers!

Golden Rugs

We've Golden rugs in our house,
That lie round the bed at night,
Their deep furry pile in the morning
Warms our feet in dawn's chilly light.

By breakfast they've moved to the kitchen,
Lie rumpled all over the floor,
Snaffling up crumbs from under the toaster
Then look pleadingly, hopeful for more.

Come mid-morning they are damp and dirty,
From the wet and the mud on the Downs
So they're spread out to dry in the back-porch,
In smelly, untidy mounds.

Then, once the sun's reached its zenith,
The rugs spread all over our home,
To warm sunny lounge or cool hallway
- quiet corners considered their own.

And later, during the evening
They lie quietly in front of the fire
With twitches and grunts of contentment
From their dreams of fun and desire.

So now the end of the day is upon us,
The Golden rugs have gone to bed for the night
And their deep furry pile in the morning,
Will warm our feet in dawn's chilly light.

© BJB 1995 Brian Booth Devizes, England

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