New Puppy
Our new puppy
with his quizzical stare
will question this world,
his strange new world,
our world,
that is far, far away
from the familiar teat
that nursed him
‘til he became a nuisance
and made himself an orphan,
a needy baby yet,
with razor sharp teeth.
We will forgive him,
you and I, even
as his tiny razors shred
our Sunday shoes,
the sofa cushions,
along with my favorite plant
But we, unlike his mother,
will tsk, tsk, tsk him gently
into our comfort zone,
not his, and train him
in humane ways
--or so we will believe.
I will mourn the sofa cushions,
for a spell,
but I will always love you
and that new puppy.
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading a chapter in the poem
Pet Poetry. This chapter
was posted on Apr 7, 2010 by
C3Lady.
This is a collaborative poem.
Some rights reserved.
This poem is filed under:
Just for Fun
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