when love

of a dog is it

in the end

in grips of old age

the licking of

the face by her

the solitary

affection rendered


(they by his

dastardly disposition

sent packing

many years before)


loneliness evaded

only by the company

of an equally old canine


(many years passed

without human touch.



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S74rw4rd's picture

I hope my comment is not

I hope my comment is not unwelcome, but I do believe this is the most poignant poem you have posted here.  In a way, reading this poem was a hurtful experience, and that goes to its emotive power.

Starward in process of becoming J-Called

Stephen's picture

Thank you for your thoughtful comment,