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The Boss Dog


Thin black dog

Not like the little

Brown and white

Living his last today

 

Down streets already a memory

Strangers bereft of the appellation

Scenes set in a score of days

Still walking under grey

Cobblestones, pavement and sky

 

Composed somehow

Man’s best friend

Certainly mine will die today

And my words mark it

As much as the tears in his fur

 

Cradling him

Now holding phone pictures

Not my friend

To my heart.

 

By J.W.H. Hobbs.

 

 

I wrote this 31/10/22, the day he passed away. Felt so damn sad, and for reasons beyond what I understand, one dog poem of a young dog goes beside a faithful old boy who’s at rest now. Heartbroken. Keep your pets close, they love purely and honestly and give us the chance to share our souls.


 
 
 

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All original poetry intellectual property of J.W.H. Hobbs. Photographs taken by J.W.H. Hobbs.

Consistency. Effort.
Passion.

Business Email: j.w.h.hobbs22@gmail.com 

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