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Poem

There's this strange fascination, 
I carry without contemplation-
it lingers on with infatuation,
as I'm stuck on this fixation.

My mother never taught me this,
I learned this all on my own-
Picture Frames and scrapbooks, 
full of the pets in my home.
I always craved more love,
than people could ever give me-
That's why I treat my pets,
as if they were family.

I'm hung up on dressing up,
crazed about homemade treats-
Two dogs sleeping in bed with me,
at the bottom of my feet.
I never let my daughter scream,
for it's never been allowed-
But my dogs can bark as they wish,
too freely and way too loud.

Am I delusional?
To have this addiction to adulation? 
For there will never be anything,
as special as their creation.
They have their own house,
in the backward when it's cold-
And God forbid they lay on the couch,
without me to tenderly hold.

I bake some chicken and sirloin, 
cuz' famished they'll never be-
Knit warm blankets out of yarn,
while watching TV next to me.
The couch is theirs to rest on,
on their own cushions they lay,
bathed with special doggie bubbles,
every other Tuesday.

I have this crazy captivation,
and hold extreme dedication-
My obsession is I hold veneration,
for my pets with adoration.


July 23, 2017

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