My Dog My King
My dog moves slow,
and his face is white.
His body is ill,
but I know he will fight.
My dog is weak,
but he knows his name.
His body once strong,
things are not the same.
My dog’s life is long at fifteen years old.
He has little time left,
As we have been told.
My dog sleeps most o@ the day.
I don’t ever want him to go away.
My dog was once thirty-nine pounds.
He’s starting to look like a di@erent hound.
My dog likes the backyard so he can roam.
He will always be the king of our home.
Copyright © doreen123 fleisch | Year Posted 2026
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