Having Shelter Protection

 . . . 

. . . 

A one room apartment 

has become our shelter 

Though I could have had two 

Rich people don't live here 

Plastic key locks our door 

Carry it on our wrists 

Whippet hound protects us 

But he is mere décor 

As are two small creatures 

Sitting above the hound 

So our protections not 

Not even in our head .

It's called Senior Living 

  We are old  

. . . 

Poem and Photo Copyright ©️ jimmiehov 2026, all rights reserved.

 -Written in response of Mary's prompt,  at https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

 I am also coming with Rommy at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1 but opting to not use her optional prompt.  Note, if my write seems nonsensical it might be. 

Groundhog Day February 2nd

 

I awoke 

Again I  could sleep 

No more in the middle of the night

So I sit on the edge of my bed 

It happens at midnight 

"Rodents" called Groundhogs are edgy 

When daylight comes they'll pop out 

Out of their nesting hole that they'd dug 

When it's time for the sun 

They'll look for their shadow 

One privileged

GROUNDHOG DETERMINES 

If it sees it's shadow it will scare 

AND run back in and hide 

Hide for six more weeks 

Means no more spring weather 

For six more weeks 

. . . 

Worrying about that, I can't sleep  

. . . 

. . . 

Poem Copyright ©️ jimmiehov 2026, all rights reserved, picture was on line, Google search found at the edge of my bed 

 -