He had drifted in among us as a straw drifts with the tide,
He was just a wand'ring mongrel from the weary world outside;
He was not aristocratic, being mostly ribs and hair,
With a hint of spaniel parents and a touch of native bear

He was very poor and humble and content with what he got,
So we fed him bones and biscuits, till he heartened up a lot;
Then he growled and grew aggressive, treating orders with disdain,
Till at last he bit the butcher, which would argue want of brain.

Now the butcher, noble fellow, was a sport beyond belief,
And instead of bringing actions he brought half a shin of beef,
Which he handed on to Fido, who received it as a right
And removed it to the garden, where he buried it at night.

'Twas the means of his undoing, for my wife, who'd stood his friend,
To adopt a slang expression, "went in off the deepest end",
For among the pinks and pansies, the gloxinias and the gorse
He had made an excavation like a graveyard for a horse.

Then we held a consultation which decided on his fate:
'Twas in anger more than sorrow that we led him to the gate,
And we handed him the beef-bone as provision for the day,
Then we opened wide the portal and we told him, "On your way."

You asked me for a late night drink
You worried just what I might think
I saw you hide the laundry by the sink
As I moved the cat to find the sofa

You said this wasn't really you
As you sat down kicking off your shoes
You said you asked me, what's there to lose
As you moved beside me on the sofa

A good girl, that was what you were
People say "oh no, not her"
I heard the cat again, really loudly purr
As we stretched out on the sofa

I knew that I should rise and leave
A tale like this, who would believe
They would think I was the one who did deceive
As we tumbled from the sofa

I remember how we spent that night
At first it was just stay or flight
I stayed and you know it turned out right
Sixteen years...upon that sofa

Her lips quiver
in normal conversation,
she aches to release her demons that have
recently grown so strong.
She's waiting for someone
to unearth the secrets shes buried
in shallow ground.
Her secrets are hidden
in plain sight.

Her secrets are on sale-
up to 95% off.
She's holding a sign that reads
"Everything must go."
But who would pay for
a sad girls secrets?
Why should we be burdened
with her pain,
when we can barely manage
our own?

Broken hearts and broken bones:
Things that never heal straight.