Triolet In January
 

My pantry’s stocked, my bottle’s full,
I’ll never have to leave my home.
When cold is stubborn, like a bull
My pantry’s stocked, my bottle’s full,
The heat is on, the throttle’s pulled.
Holed up here with archaic tomes
My pantry’s stocked, my bottle’s full,
I’ll never have to leave my home.


Tracey Gratch

If you've a comment on this poem, Tracey Gratch would be pleased to hear it.

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