Down A Quart
Sometimes he doesn’t need us at all
Although we see him everyday
As he waits for his name to be called
As his day unfolds
Walking on all fours
Sharing space like others before
Making his tours
Stating his case by the door
Or waiting by the kitchen door
Even lying on the floor
Enriching our lives
We couldn’t ask for more
He’s down a quart
Rubbing our legs
His emerald eyes
Begging for more
Without a word
Simba speaks
Pick me up and give me a hug
I’m down a quart and I didn’t chew the cord
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem