Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Sometimes, when you're a little dog (an existential poem, by Toby)

Sometimes, when you're a little dog,
things don't go quite according to plan.

Walks don't materialise, there's nothing to sniff,
and the ball gets stuck under the bookshelf.

You can't even take down a book to read yourself a good tale of blood, death and bones.
And you've seen every episode of Inspector Rex.

So you sit and think.
And stare at the laps that could be cuddling you.
And you think some more.

There's lots to think about when you're a little dog.

You can think and think for hours. Thinkity think.

Thinking and scratching, and scratching and thinking.

Until it's time for another nap.


1 comment:

Christopher Mackay said...

Great poem. Love the drawings, Bev (or should I say 'Toby'?). :D