Boomer

He wakes in the morning,

and starts licking my hand.

Waiting for me,

to wake up and stand.

I let him outside,

and fill up his bowl.

While he dances about,

sunning his soul.

He barks at the door,

wanting his food.

Jumping about,

in such a good mood.

He prances around,

chasing after his toys.

He's trying so hard,

to be one of the boys.

He runs around the house,

chasing his ball.

Until he loses his focus,

and runs into a wall.

He can't made up his mind,

if he wants inside or out,

but when he does,

he surely will shout.

When he's all tuckered out,

he'll go lie on the bed.

Tearing off the blankets,

so he can lay down his head.

He may be eccentric,

funny and strange.

But he'll always be mine,

and nothing will change.

N.B. Bingman

March 24, 2015