Noons High Tide Poem by Eric Elliott

Under noons high tide the bodys of dead rot
and the birds that are left with out seed
Shrivel under the suns heat but what
did I think would happen, them left with out feed

I've seen dogs and the bodys they eat
the places they'll go and where they've been
I smell decayed meat
only then I look down, with eys of mere men

a puppy bloodly and beaten
the birds over head swoop down at him
I hold him trying to get away

But I fall and are pray
I trade my eye for his life
now he is mine and will stay at my side