My Good Old Bear

 HE'S A LITTLE DOG, STUBBY TAIL,
A COAT OF MOTH-EATEN TAN
SHORT WOBBLY LEGS,
I DON'T THINK HE EVER RAN.
HE HOWLS AT NIGHT,
WHILE IN DAYS HE SLEEPS
…LIKE A LOG.
I CALL HIM BEAR
'BUMMER' [IMPLIED]

HE'S JUST A TRAMP
WITH HIGHTWAY STAMPS
THAT CULTURE CAN'T DISGUISE.
HIS FRIENDS I HAVE FOUND.ABOUND
URCHINS, DOGS AND MAN
YET HE STICKS TO ME LIKE VELCRO.
[FIENDISH GLEE]

I TALK TO HIM WHEN HE'S LONESOME LIKE
AND I'M SURE HE UNDERSTANDS
WHEN HE LOOKS AT ME SO ATTENTIVELY,
AND GENTLY LICKS MY HAND:

THEN HE RUBS HIS NOSE
ON MY TAILORED CLOTHES
KNOWING I OFFER TREATS

FOR THE GOOD LORD KNOWS
I CAN BUY MORE CLOTHES
BUT NEVER A FRIEND LIKE THAT

[SEE YOU LATER BEAR]

WRITTEN BY KC..
FOR my GOOD OLD BEAR ..

***
1990- MARCH 2000



 

                           

 


This page is featured on

Smiles, Tears and Yesteryears
**KC**

 


ode to a Dog

My dog's so furry I've not seen

His face for years and years:

His eyes are buried out of sight,

I only guess his ears.

When people ask me for his breed,

I do not know or care:

He has the beauty of them all

Hidden beneath his hair.



Herbert Asquith


 

 

 



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