My Little Foxy Sestina

Sestina - poetry form

My Little Foxy Sestina

I miss my little Foxy,
She dashes in the house
and spins around the table legs
quicker than a mouse.
She tilts her head, flashes a grin,
then licks me on my ankle.

Her paws tap lightly on my ankle,
a darting shadow—my dear Foxy.
Her eyes, like stars, hold a playful grin,
claims every cranny of the house.
She hides, she leaps, as swift as a mouse,
and weaves between the sturdy legs.

Her world is built of chairs and legs,
a jungle where she nips my ankle.
Her bark is sharper than a mouse,
she’d never chase, not my Foxy!
Her spirit fills this quiet house,
a tempest wrapped in fur and grin.

I never knew a dog could grin
until she peeked from under legs,
her joy transforming this old house,
her warmth a balm for every ankle.
How silent now without my Foxy.
The stillness huddles like a mouse.

I thought I glimpsed her—just a mouse
of movement—but it wasn’t that grin.
The shadow tricksters taunting Foxy
beneath the chairs, between the legs.
I half-expect her to nudge my ankle,
reminding me she owns this house.

It’s just a house, a hollow house
without her scampering, no mouse
to fill the space or graze my ankle.
And yet, I feel her phantom grin,
her spirit darting past my legs—
a fleeting echo of my Foxy.

Dear Foxy, this is still your house,
I’ll see your grin in every mouse,
your shadow twirls forever round, my legs.

Cyn Bagley © 2025

This is only the second Sestina I’ve tried to write. Maybe one day I’ll write a perfect one. I do like this one though.