Little Puppy Dog [poem]
He’s like a little puppy on his first extended walk:
Rushing up to every face
without defences held in place.
So much wanting just to give;
loves the moment — loves to live.
Won’t object to being stroked;
pulled so hard he nearly choked.
Strides through bullshit everywhere;
little puppy doesn’t care —
he just bounces round with glee
exasperates his family.
Sees the whole world as his friends
lives and loves as life intends
doesn’t mind who he offends.
“Tut-tut”, they say, with features stern.
“That little puppy needs to learn
to simmer down and play it cool.
Let’s put him through some fancy school
where he can gain some adult skills
grow some horns, cut down on thrills”.
At that, he breaks the leash — bursts free.
That little puppy dog…
is me.
© 2011, Alan Morrison
The Naked Troubadour 