Thursday, March 29, 2012

Lost Dog

Vital eyes of a loving companion
are not to be found in a thicket full
of  overgrown woody and green distractions
that once embraced her mind so bored and dull

Absence is amplified by dark silence.
At high noon a siren sounds for return,
waiting, watching and wonder the penance
for the forgotten confidante I yearn.

Alas, a jingle from afar tickles
the worrisome ears on a widow's peak.
A rush from the brush ignites a fickle
excitement that is burning so to speak.
Frantic brown eyes meet worried and wrinkled
blue for an embrace that's unique and true.

1 comment:

  1. Some real emotion here, Emily. I'd love to talk with you about this poem. I wonder if there's a way to clarify the story a little bit.

    Curious imagery throughout! Good start.

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