Little Dog
When my dog does that thing
and she stares far off in space.
I wonder what she sees just then;
a ghost? a friend or foe.
Then she rolls her eyes that way
looks deep into my own.
I wonder if she reads my thoughts;
my soul, and what she sees.
Sometimes when she’s sleeping fast,
she yips and yelps and runs.
Her little feet they patter quick, tread softly on the air.
I wonder what she’s dreaming of — and what it is she sees.
A friend met in another life, a ghost, a mutt or me?
A rabbit? hen? or God.
Copyright © Monika Martyn | Year Posted 2016
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