A Dog's Tale
Except for an occasional
firm tug on my bristly neck,
daily walks were enjoyable.
I really don’t mind, what the heck
I get to sniff the things I love:
Poop, poles, an occasional bitch;
A master I think the world of,
freedom to stop and quell an itch
all my needs in one walkabout.
My master’s a different story:
If barks were words I’d state flat out,
Your megalomanic fantasy
Is just that, doomed to fail,
Thus leaving you unsatisfied
fruitless as me catching my tail.
Copyright © Albert Ahearn | Year Posted 2016