Buried Beneath Tulips

Sherry was a junkyard pup. She loved to run and play. A gift to me, lifted up. A blessing came that day. Down the play yard slide she slid. She loved to roll in dirt. Obedient. Never hid. Played rough, but never hurt. “Go find a stick.” my command. We had fun at the park. First I’d chase her, then she, me. Her eyes had that spark. My first dog at age nineteen. Oh furry little ball. Learned to count from one to ten. She, a sad girl's cure-all - My purebred German shepherd Had purebred little pups. Afterward we had her spayed. She died, life's bitter cups. © July 9, 2011 Dane Smith-Johnsen Written for Poetry Soup Member contest: Pick a Pet Sponsored by: Francine Roberts