Good Dog.

I taught a dog to sit
& thought myself a teacher
When he would no longer stand
I became oppressor.
He whimpered for instruction
Was it fear or respect
That pinned him.
Was he simply forgetful?
Had time brought him to
An unfavourable age
His last trick learnt
& now surrendered.
I sat with him
& grew old
& grew forgetful.
At that time precisely
He stood up
Walked to the door
Turned and spoke
“Good dog”.
I attempted to pursue
However, I could not stand.
In that moment
I recalled the times
I too had been told
To sit.


Published by Lobster Thoughts

Poetic expression and general madness.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: