Dark silk fur flows
’round her soft body,
perfectly curled
for lapdog duty
but fumble the leash
and she’s a black flash,
low to the ground
like a chubby hovercraft.
I run in futile chase
fueled by dual fears
of distracted automobiles
and short-tempered gun-nuts.
Maggie runs, knowing only the joys
of freedom and speed.
Maggie is a good dog! 😄 great poem!
Thanks. She was a very good girl.
lol “and short-tempered gun-nuts” great iambic pentameter especially for a poem about a dog. very clever!
Thanks, mate!