Returning
He followed the motion and before it left the hand, he was away.
His greatest thrill was fulfilling his purpose, to please.
On returning, he stood patient, waiting for that firm stroke
That caressed his spine; and the feel of the palm on his ribcage;
Two pats coupled with the words: “Good Boy”.
He knew this pleasure was a current that ran both ways.
This game of fetch, as close as he could ever come,
To playing catch with his father.
The way they did,
When he was once a boy.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
