A Companion
I am not a ball, after you’ve played
You just leave it somewhere on the ground,
Rolling to rest on its self.
I am not a food,
Or a Chinese aperitif, when ever
You don’t like, you leave it, untouched.
Neither, I am not worn clothing
When you need it, then it’s the only time
You remember it to wash.
I am your companion, day and night;
You caressed me, when you felt sad. I missed your touch;
O, do I have to bring your slipper now?
I gave you comfort, when you were down;
I’m really not an envious being, but
I hate your silent treatment, it makes me sick.
This is happening, every time you sit in solitude
A lousy pen, between your white teeth; and
You, in deep thought.
Why do you’ve to slave yourself, thinking?
Thinking of something outside your world;
I am here, your faithful one.
Always will be here, for you;
Even if you come home late, I recognize you;
Your manly smell lingers in my skin.
Before, we used to stroll together;
We played happily, lately, not so often
Why?
Gee, how selfish I am, I shouldn’t be asking you this;
I must understand, you are an aspiring poet; indeed
You needed time to be on your own, to write.
But if, you need me,
Just call my name, and
I’m ready and willing to serve you.
Thou, I’ve one favor for today, let’s play our favorite,
Throw the stick wherever you want, Master
And I’ll bring it back to you, with gladness.
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2007
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