Prompt 2
Poem 2
The Dog
He was supposed to sit by her chair
at the table,brown fur neck encircledÂ
with a narrow blue ribbon, large brown
eyes reflecting the light. But it was justÂ
the first time he would wander wherever
he went. She came to the table, sat and
something cold and damp touched her
leg. She squealed, which is how he got his name,
Squeal. Friends for life. After she died,
he rested upon the fresh-turned earth,
knowing somehow she was there.
Liked this poem. Have been a dog owner for many years. They are family and have a personality.
Thank you.