Every yard was an island
Filled with exotic terrain
Far, far away.
And the geography
of the mind
Making of it
A type of island,
A mythological place
Where gnarled Torrey pines
Like something seen on
The edge of the universe
Grew along with timber bamboo
And a jungle of exotic plants.
Before the culture wars began
Dogs roamed freely
Like perfect gentlemen.
Everyone knew the dogs and
Far above the leash,
Modest and careful
And strictly aloof.
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Comments about this poem (Dog Haven by naomi smith )
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