Poems and Poetry

Contentment | A Poem by Shelley Nutting

I have nothing to do.
No pressing engagement.
A house empty of all,
save the freshly laundered duvet
that invites me
to partake of its
fragrant comfort.
I curl, cat like,
basking in a pool of
liquid warmth that seeps
lazily through the window,
bathing the room
in orange glow.

Oh to spend a life time here,
wrapped in such sweet embrace.


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