Sister Poem by Allen M. Lola
Sister
(Dedicated to the passing of a good dog)
It wasn’t the end of the world when she up and died,
But I admit I had to talk a tear from sloshing over the side.
The crow quit calling her names over his drifting shadow.
Does anyone know where all the good dogs go?
Brown eyes, big feet and a short tail,
a biscuit’s nightmare, she could follow any trail.
A free roaming spirit, she feared no foe.
Does anyone know where all the good dogs go?
She scattered the squirrels and ran the rabbit.
She shook the possum from his dreams and shooed the egret.
Not a cat chase missed and she rolled the armadillo.
Does anyone know where all the good dogs go?
It must be a happy place, a place without a care.
For a week or a month, I would like to visit her there.
Dogs have no soul; some say it to be so. Then,
does anyone know where all the good dogs go?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 10:15:17 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I cannot possibly give you an answer for your thought provoking question but I know one thing for sure, they are the best and faithful companions the human kind can ever has! Reading your welled penned write and looking at a picture of my lovely Stella who died on my arms and now at my other lovely Cleo who is waving her tale to me! I can tell that they remain in our hearts and minds until we die! Thank you for sharing and keep it up! 10+++ God Bless You! Love and Peace for always! Romeo from New York City!