Poetry

The Pet

There is an aged dog of limited girth,

Who's drawn face contains no mirth.

By day she indiscriminately howls,

At night shed dreams like a drunken owl.

Such a dog deserves a second birth.

Poetry

I wasn't able to work on my book this morning, but I finished the Lady of the Trillium and am working on a review. Here's a few poems in the meanwhile.

The Clock

There was a clock that told twelve,

Upon a great oak shelve,

It wrung until noon,

But that was too soon,

For a person who cared only about himself