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More poems about Pure Fiction

HIDDEN COTTAGE
Walking wearily with sagging gait and a slowing tread,
With dusk descending fast, and now too tired to lift my head,
I stumbled on, then paused to rest and saw a scene of the best,
A cozy cottage with lights ablaze welcoming me to come and rest.

The white wicket gate was half open in an inviting kind of way,
Through the windows the lights warmed wanting you to stay,
I knocked and a voice said “please come in, and have a seat,
It will not long now before we all sit down for a meal to eat”

A fire blazed, sweet music came from an old fashioned radio,
An old clock on the mantle seemed to tick-tock rather slow,
There were a pair of slippers that fit me, just the right size,
And empty chair by the fire for me to rest, what a surprise.

An elderly couple came and warmly shook hands with me,
Relax and rest just a little longer you are so weary we can see,
And then your meal will be ready the one you like the best.
How on earth could they know I had made no kind of request.

The smell from the kitchen sent me back to my childhood days,
Smells of Christmas dinner when the cooks got such great praise,
Then the meal was ready roast turkey and all the many trimmings,
It tasted much better than Christmas, better than Thanksgiving.

I slept well and was really rested when I awoke the next day,
But there was no cottage or fence all had faded far away,
But I was content, warm, full, and enough food to see me through
Many a day of travelling so it was not just a dream but all true.

How many a wanderer did that cozy cottage find to give rest?
How many folks went well fed and take-out of the very best?
I have trod that road since then and no cozy cottage ever found,
But if any are too weary to carry on it would be there I’ll be bound.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson 28 June 2006