Sunday, May 17, 2009

Outside with Her Dog

Sarah wrote a poem this weekend that I thought was well worth sharing.

Outside with my Dog
We run
Around and
Around and
She scampers
Up the old pile
Of wood
And the hill
Of ivy.
She makes it.
I squeak a
Wheezy, chewy
Ball and her
Prick up, like
She knows
I’ll do it one more time.
And when I do,
She zooms,
Down the broken, wooden
I freeze,
Brace myself
For the dog who is like
A jet-
She’ll knock you
Despite the size.
She grabs the
Ball and at last
Runs away with it.
She looks like someone
Who has just
Gotten a bite
Too big to chew-
The ball is too
Big for her mouth.
When she waits
by the gate
I cautiously
Let her out,
The cat is nearby.
She pulls, and
I let her out of
My grip.
Out from my
Vision, I see
Her trot to
The cat.
I quickly
Close the
latch and hurry
towards her.
I see a tiny,
Delicate grey
Paw swipe at
Her golden-red
She backs up,
Her rear
And waits.
I drag her,
Her resistance
At the door.
She runs
Inside, finds
A toy,
And rushes to
While I
close the door.

1 comment:

Zuneamama said...

great poem and good vocabulary! I love it!