Good Dog.

Once
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.
So
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.

 

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