Squirrel’s Throne

Perched in comfort and style,
With some moments to beguile,
On fluffy crumbs of bread,
And an aged cheese shred,
Lazily nibbled the squirrel,
Sporting a look so feral,
Using its tail as a sensor,
To detect the approach of any contender
For its very own space in time,
Soaking up nature’s rhyme,
Reveling in its element,
Wholly claiming the moment,
While presiding from its throne…
An upturned and pockmarked stone,
That was used to grind spices on,
Evoking memories of an era long gone…

Copyright © 2020 RajaRajeshwari Nagasigamani

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