On passing man and dog
There's that bloody dog again,
ears akimbo, happy tail,
poised to chase the stone he's throwing
in the river - never fails!
Time and time again it happens;
in he goes with eager bark
for a stone that's hit the bottom
by the time he's left the mark.
Swimming through concentric circles,
for a moment he's perplexed;
then he swims back, looking, hoping,
for the next stone, and the next.
'Stupid dog! You'd think he'd rumble.'
Look away. Walk on alone.
Turn to hopes of latest lover -
sinking like another stone.
If you've any comments on this poem, Sarah Willans would be pleased to hear from you.