Jonathan ROBIN Poems
A Dog's Life
Sixteen years, now almost seventeen,
I've played at stick and ball, stayed seldom still
until good master's call would whistle shrill
to lead me back - no need to smack. Sight keen.
Sixteen years tail's wagged as faithful friend,
as boon companion, running round fun years.
His mother passed away, I shared the tears
that fountained forth and never seemed to end.
Sixteen years round each revolving moon
from hearth and home I pick up slightest sound,
ears prick, eyes bright, in sight I'm always found
to hold my ground, though often play ...
Affection to some seems affliction
who spurn love, too turn up each tooth –
construction returns to constriction
as they burn up the promise of youth...
4 May 1979