If only I could find a fitting title.
It's A Poet's Journal
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Dewbie, You're a Dog.
I stood, bare feet
on the concrete.
Rain pouring down
gently, as I frown
at the dog searching
for the wet creature
that ran under the fence
and out of the yard.
Suppose the dog's life
must really be hard.
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