Moss covered home, formed from a tree, with door and windows three,
Set my mind to wondering, “Just whose home could this be?”
A hobbit might be happy here; t’would suit him to a tittle!
The door is rather short for me, but hobbits are quite little.
Creeping closer, through the window, a warm and welcome sight,
Revealed to me, a room, rough-hewn, but warm and hobbit right!
Perhaps he rests his hairy feet upon the hassock there,
That’s pulled up, comfy and quite close, before his rocking chair.
A pipe I see, with pipe-stem chewed a bit, but still a dandy,
That’s kept within a hobbit’s reach, to always be quite handy.
I bet he blows smoke rings aloft, and thinks his secret thoughts.
I am so drawn to go within, but know that I ought not.
He might not like me spying here, so I’ll be on my way,
But oh, such curiosity will join me all this day!
Where Magic Lives: Poems of Fairies and Fancy by Donna Ferguson Dudley is available on Kindle at Amazon.com