So, I’m feeling kind of weird lately. I apologize in advance.
From two blocks north, Poppy
Would drag his belly to our back door.
I know not why.
Running out to play,
Tripping over his heavy head
Filled with bloodshot weepy eyes
And the lowest frown in town,
Was a summer staple.
Barely able to walk
With the legs of a low couch
And the body of an overstuffed olive,
Older than me,
He would only bark once.
What did he want?
If it was to mount my brown dog,
A hole would have had to be dug
For her to stand in
so that Poppy could reach.
Maybe he wanted the Hershey bar
That mom always had.
Perhaps,
He wanted to be our dog.
We told him, “Go home, go home
Poppy.” If it was possible,
He looked even sadder
As he walked away, a two block trip
that must have taken an hour.
The picture was fun. The pathos in your prose poem made me smile and say “Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!”
I have had reactions much like those expressed in this wonderfully FUN poem whenever I have met with a basset hound. My mother-in-law once had one!
You made me laugh out loud for real! I usually can only muster a smirk.
Love the pic, and the poem wasn’t too shabby either.