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
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2011
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