Contented Poem by david lessard

I am content,
to be by his side,
he speaks no words,
but his thoughts are
passed along to me.
When he does speak,
it's only a word or two,
and I am content
to listen and obey.
Sometimes,
when we go for a ride,
I sit in the back,
my face sticking out
of the half-cracked window,
fascinated by the whirl
of passing cars and people,
the air feels great!
Then, stopping somewhere,
he lets me out and
I am free to roam and
to run, to my heart's content.
No fences, no gates.
I sprint after real and
imaginary enemies,
in the sun
and the wind,
in the open countryside,
I run free, and content.