This Is What I Call A Loyal Love
Fur bounds, through the cottony breeze, to me.
On a warm, summery day,
the scent of dog resounds.
A wet nose, commiserate smile and hug.
Against my skin, he reclines.
I’m always home with him.
His eyes, see not, purple flowers blooming;
not intuitive of hue;
but bud’s loyal as bees.
My shoulder’s bare, does he know skin, or care?
He stays very close to me
and wanders nearly far.
My pretty dress and handsome hat amidst
the enchantment of meadow.
He doesn’t know its charm.
Obeys, he stays, protects territory.
A fine life, with benefits;
faithful to each other.
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