Thursday, September 12, 2013

Old Dog

Pocketed hands, forwarded feet
Along my trusty, tide out,
Old beach

Sandy shore stretched thin
Salty puddles, like
Blisters on the skin

Sand-coloured dog walks alone
Blends with the beach,
Slow and steady as you go

People pass, couples match
Not even a look
For an old dog to catch

Perhaps he's alone, taking a stroll
Delightful thought
Makes the poem

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