My Dog

I still hear the patter of your paws As you run up and I open the door I guess it’s just sentimental old me But I miss you and I remember you so easily You always took up most of the bed And reminded me when it was time to be fed There was always time for play When you would carry your toy to me throw away Those old times with you are still so dear Each one a memory for me so clear And you will run to me again when I call your name As you wait over the bridge wagging your tail for a game. © Paul Warren Poetry