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The Little White Dog

I almost didn’t go for a run yesterday. It was hot, and I was doing everything I could to talk myself out of going, but I went anyway. I’m very happy that I did, because I was witness to a sweet little moment in life that inspired me to write this silly little poem.

The Little White Dog

I saw an old man out walking today
Checking his vines, in his own way

Short and round, with a khaki hat
Yellow shirt, and pants that matched

Dusty and hot, but he didn’t mind
I knew this was his special time

Up ahead was a dog, little and white
Lying in the dirt, the man in his sight

He faced the man, he was watching him walk
Waiting on him, his eyes were locked

Not a glance my way, just a slight turn of his ear
He cared only for the man, yet he knew I was near

The man looked my way, gave me a smile and a wave
I smiled back at him, this gentle man of gray

As the gap closed between them, the scene about to unfold
To me, the silent observer, a story of love forever told

Jumping up on the man, as if he’d not seen him for days
And with a pat on his head, he sent the dog on his way

Off he ran…far, fast, and free
But not too far, before he looked back to see

Where was his man, was he still in sight?
Yes, there he was, and this place looks right

So the little dog stopped again and lay down to wait
For the man who is the world to him, his very best mate.

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