Other Things #12 – Poemlet #8

“Old Dogs”

Our old dog, Chester, sits alone,

and all he does is chew his bone.

I hear him gnawing without end;

his grinding drives me round the bend.

An old dog’s job must be to chew;

I guess that’s what all old dogs do.

Therefore it is because of that,

sometimes I wish he was a cat.

6 thoughts on “Other Things #12 – Poemlet #8

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