With apologies to Robert Frost

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Whose home this is I think you know.
He lives within my basement though;
And knows that he must earn his keep
And clear my deck filled up with snow.   

My little gnome must think it queer
To shovel without an ending near
Between the chair and frozen grill
The coldest morning of the year.   

He gives his red hat bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of heavy drift and downy flake.   

My deck is massive, dark and deep,
But he has promises to keep,
And miles to go before he sleeps,
And miles to go before he sleeps.

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14 Comments

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  1. I normally don’t care for poetry, but that is absolutely adorable. And the picture is priceless. Poor little gnome.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m guessing the gnome’s name is Hans. As in, “All Hans on deck!”

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I think he did very well just using that spoon! Although the Department of Gnome Labour may be knocking at your door any moment. Great poem! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. He should have taken “the road less traveled”.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. A gnome with a spoon….damn….wish I’d thought of that one ! ☺

    Liked by 2 people

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