Poems by Ann D. Stevenson

My beloved canine friend
life's not how it used to be
you no longer hear my whistle
and just keep on running free.

I wave my arms and signal
but you cannot always see
or is it just that you prefer
to please yourself not me.

Your coat's a little shabby
I think you've lost some hair
but with a little grooming
your looks remain quite fair.

Your sense of smell is good
and so is your sense of taste
you sniff out food anywhere
which has increased your waist.

Your bones are not so supple
you struggle with some steps
but when barking at a stranger
you still show lots of pep

As I look into your eyes
which have grown slightly dim
I see the same young puppy
still nestled deep within

You remind me of somebody
I wonder, who can it be
I have a sneaking feeling
that it might in fact be me.

Homely aromas
of freshly baked bread.
Scents of the garden
infused in my head.

Wiffs of the sea
whilst walking the beach.
Sniffs of freshness
from an apple or peach.

The essence of a baby
breathed in from its skin.
And my love, ah my love,
I love breathing you in.