Your bliss is not my bliss
and yet perhaps
if I tell you my bliss
there may be a place
where we can meet
beyond words
My father
used to meet that small him
who was me
every afternoon from school
in the green park across from School
he had no job then,
it got him out of the house
One day
which lives in bliss
he had this tiny
black and white bundle
straining on a new brown leather leash
overjoyed to see me
though we'd never met
Oh Michael how cute. How we remember the joy of a little puppy. Reminds me of my late husband who saw the white bundle I had brought home for my daughter. He demanded we remove it from the house immediately then took it away and after only a few short hours of that joy, my daughter never saw that puppy again. OOps said too much again. Hugs Jan
Very will written piece which brings back memories of all my new puppies and their no strings attached love. Rusty
I concur with Daily and Hassler - memories galore. Thanks for the ride.
Yes, the things one remembers! I also seem to have about 24 chambers in my head for those special memories, luckily there were quite a number. It is a pleasant experience when a simple poem like this opens up a couple of them. Thanks, Michael. H
How extremely fortunate I am to have known (unfortunately not personally) the multi-talented Michael Shepherd. How sincerely sorry I am to have learned of his passing. He will not pass this way again. Goodbye my friend. Jerry Hughes
What a beaut it is... your bliss! It evoked memories of past where my father used to flip whenever we brought the new stray dog home. Yes, we did meet at a place to share your bliss- see?
I share this bliss Michael as I too have experienced the same for the same reason, and will always remember that day.. Love to you Fay.
Dear Michael, Unconditional love rears its black and white head again. Bliss indeed. love always, Allie
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
hey, Microsoft, tho i'm not presently certain why i like this, i do. for some reason grainy images flickering on an old Super 8 reel come to mind. i enjoy the nostalgia in this piece. Jake