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.