Gold Day. Formerly A Day. Day 33.
Black Fur Black Heart
A Terribly Written Poem for Sybil
Our daily walks have grown so long
And yet we haven't even gone
As half as far as once we did
Your feet are slow my feet are mid.
In the thunder when you hide
The entire world can end outside
And you would still be safe with me
And in your crate you are still free.
Your brown paw brushes past my hand
And even though you track in sand
The time we spend in life together
Will always be our heart tied tether.
With milk bone breath you pant and sigh
A mournful howl upon the sky.
My spirit will not lower now
Even though you are not cow.
How restless is the time you spend
Waiting for my work to end.
And I sit, late at night
And choose the people I wish you'd bite.
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