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I know that he is set in his same ways,
All the years he has been hard on himself,
Stubborn to change for the bed he has made,
Friendless and loneliness is all he has known,
But he has me as he looks down and I wag,
He grunts whenever he makes my bowl,
He never calls me, he just sits for he knows,
That I am around, and the bowl will be found,
He never hit me, cause he is a grouch, not mean,
Sad, for I will never know for when I die,
                     ~~...will he even cry for me?

Date: 06/01/2019

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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