Guard Dog

May 12, 2012
Sitting in the door way, never moving,
you stare when visitors walk in.
They don’t know what to make of you
but you’re a truly loyal friend.
There to say good morning,
sitting in the same place at night.
always loving and affectionate
but always quick to start a fight.
You’re gone now, buried and dead.
There’s no one to take walks with and
an empty spot at the foot of my bed.
What I wouldn’t give to see that droopy face again.
But I can’t help but hope
that you can finally get some rest.

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