A White Dog
A White Dog
She was a white dog,
A dog of purest white.
All the spectrum colours combined;
Blue, for her melancholy moods,
Watching me, sad eyes meeting mine.
Red, for her love of life
And chasing cats out of the garden,
Green, for the grass she loved
To run on and occasionally eat,
Yellow, for the sunlight she lay in
And I would scold her (her skin was far too fair),
Orange, for the warm evenings we spent together,
Her head upon me, before the fire,
Purple, for of course, she was the princess
Of our lives, to whom we gave devotion.
All these colours combined in white,
The white of her love and fidelity,
The gifts she gave us.
But I can write no more,
And it comes as no surprise
That I put down my pen,
As tears now blur my eyes...
Copyright © Glen Hague | Year Posted 2019
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