From a broken home, and sad state,
Colonized in fleas with matted fur,
A rough mannered beast you were,
Trembling at your yet unknown fate.
But time, love, and doggy shampoo,
Once nicely groomed so snowy white,
And warming to new familiar sights,
Your wag and swag replacing your rue.
And now you greet in a liturgy of licks,
Complete with black eyed adoring stare,
Mimicking bipeds whose lives you share,
Always ready to play and up to new tricks.
Sweetly, you love to be loved and to love,
Bark your invitation to play on the floor,
A dog heart shining like the purest of ores,
Part of the healing in simply being part of,
My life.
4 comments:
Love this poem. I have online friends who are poets, one a writer, who I'm sure would love to read this along with other poetry from you. I hope I can more and more appreciate good poetry, but this is one I certainly like.
Thank you Ted... very kind.
Thank you Ted... very kind.
Michael,
Though I didn't know Rosie well she always greeted me as a friend eagerly awaited whenever we met. From the first time I saw her to the last she retained her young dog demeanor, her enthusiasm. Not typical of mature dogs.
I am confident that you are right as you state that she rescued you.
I am supremely confident that dogs do go to heaven, and that even now Rosie watches over and eagerly awaits you all her humans.
Much love to you and yours, dear friend.
Dorwin
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