Ode to a Dog

Happy the person with a dog,

companion of the first degree.

Awake or sleeping like a log,

                they’re fun to see.

Waking you at an early hour,

they always start your day off right,

and do not mind your greater power;

                they will not fight.

To a woman they are a child;

to a man, like an errant son.

Whether they’re quiet or quite wild,

                they’ll take a gun.

They’ll shuffle off this mortal coil

and leave you sad; you’ll miss your elf,

whether you put them in your soil,

                or on your shelf.

Because I do remember mine,

staring, rapt, at a bedroom wall,

where he does now in fact recline.

                He heard my call.

© Julianne Carlile