Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2011
The pavement neath
my pad pawed feet
is sometimes rough
(They seldom Sweep)
I tour my little concrete Fief
with a boy on a chain
dragged off his feet.
I sniff and check
each rock and tree
to find which dogs
have stopped to ***.
I roll a growl deep
in my throat
if I see rivals here about.
If perchance, Fifi I meet
I wag my tail and act real sweet.
She's French you know,
and , when in heat,
worlds can collide
and blend tout suite.
John F McCullagh
Written by
John F McCullagh  63/M/NY
(63/M/NY)   
2.9k
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems