Tia

The nudge of her wet nose speaks more to me

Than a person ever could; for her eyes,

They look further than any person would.

She cares not for my wide nose and small size, 

Nor for my clumsy hands and those white lies,

But just for the comfort of my presence.

The glad wag of her tail means more to me

Than a person’s handshake ever stole,  

For she will never be untrue or fake.

Often I swear she see’s into my soul,

But perhaps I am just mad, and perhaps,

She just wants the last sausage out my bowl.