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My Dog Luke

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My Dog Luke

I once knew a jolly Collie named Luke.
He was always spooked, like a nuke had shot off.
Without a doubt he loved the outdoors.
He would follow the moon and hollow at its sparkling light.
Luke was not a hound, don’t me confound.
He was a therapist. He listened to me and I to him.
We discussed with trust the matters of life.
He had feelings and loved me,
but was frightened of the ripper who had come to take his name.
Luke knew the answer, it was cancer.
As I weep, he went to sleep.
My best friend has met his end.





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