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
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