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Her and The Dog
January 20, 2011
I told her to climb the ladder,
To hang the mast of our folly to the suns pattern,
Cause I could not go up there,
Time called me a fool’s joke,
My drool and her hair in the breeze,
Called me a fool to please,
And yet I am down here in the brown and tan,
While she is up there in the azure and blue,
My absent thumbs planted firmly,
In the soil where the bouncing ball and tug-of-war lie motionless,
When will she come down and play?
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