Trust - Poem by Bernard Franklin
He sits all day with forlorn eyes, and a longing in his heart.
He gives blind devotion to his master, from whom he hates to be apart.
He’s chewed the rug and chased the cat, and now he’s getting bored.
He’s rummaged through the rubbish bins, his old bones he’s gnashed and gored.
It seems to him like months ago when his master went away.
He wishes he’d come home again, so they could romp around and play.
He sleeps at night at the foot of the bed, in a broken down old box.
He’s made a nest of comfort there, from his masters old odd socks.
In the morning he’s the first one up, as he wrestles the daily paper from the door.
The master feeds his trusty friend, who barks insistently for more.
The best part of their morning is the stroll down to the park.
Where on the trees and lampposts there, he likes to leave his mark.
At 5 pm precisely the garden gate begins to squeak.
The masters only been away eight hours, but to the dog it seems more like a week.
As the master starts to open the door, the dog bounds up the hall.
He leaps upon his master, in a playful friendly maul! .
Besides a roaring fire at night, he looks up at someone he can trust.
His master smiles and pats his head, his faith in him is just.
The dog appreciates the care he gets, as for himself he cannot fend.
It seems to him at the end of the day, that man is a dogs best friend! .
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