Sonnet for the Sophie DogA Poem by mattavelli
There was never a squirrel hound with more skill,
But her talent has gone unused for years.
She pouts at the window, sad eyes with tears,
Watching the tree-rats and wanting to kill.
I’d love to let her, but still never will.
To have her diseased is one of my fears.
So I try to get her mind to switch gears,
But soon she’s back with her paws on the sill.
Though I can’t help that the world does tease her
With excitement and delicious pleasure,
I do my best to give her some relief.
So I grab the bacon from the freezer
And tempt her with this odorous treasure,
Which she snatches like a tail-wagging thief.
© 2008 mattavelli
Added on February 5, 2008
Last Updated on October 28, 2008
Taizhou, Jiangsu, China
AboutHello, I write poems. I realize that the reviews I write are simple and unhelpful at times. I'm no good at it. I've run out of ways to say That's Pretty, but if I think it is, I'll write somethin.. more..
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