Walking The Dog Poem by Stephen Brian Brady
Walking The Dog
a butterfly didn't flap a wing
but maybe if it had
and the grebe had held it's breath
below the surface
as the the river stopped it's flow
when the dog-leads intertwined
would they have paused to find
that dog-walking
was the last thing on their minds
but it all passed by as unthink
a moment out of sync
and there as a still-born aftermath
it lay unnoticed
curled-up on the path.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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9/23/2024 2:39:03 AM # 1.0.0.1119
