Aug 2017
In the field, the dog runs and barks
He licks his boy, his precious boy
The boy’s laughter can be heard for miles
The boy throws his baseball
The dog, bored, attacks it
The boy laughs, but also scolds
In the apartment, the boy comes home
He throws his backpack, which hits the dog
The dog yelps, but the boy does not apologize
The boy is at the vet, crying
A syringe looms over the dog
The dog is still, it moves no more
The boy, now a man, regrets
He wishes for his dog, his precious dog
The man’s crying can be heard for miles
He licks his boy, his precious boy
The boy’s laughter can be heard for miles
The boy throws his baseball
The dog, bored, attacks it
The boy laughs, but also scolds
In the apartment, the boy comes home
He throws his backpack, which hits the dog
The dog yelps, but the boy does not apologize
The boy is at the vet, crying
A syringe looms over the dog
The dog is still, it moves no more
The boy, now a man, regrets
He wishes for his dog, his precious dog
The man’s crying can be heard for miles
This poem means a lot to me. It is an altered story of my dog's life. He died about a year ago, so I wrote about him. It is altered, so I didn't actually throw a backpack at him. Nor was I there when it happened. Please comment on what you think about it. Thank you.
