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Rated: E · Poetry · Spiritual · #2138001
My beagle was indeed a blessing.
When I am ten I see her
now; a beagle I named
Cleo.  I wish I could
remember where
where Mom and
Dad got her, but
I can not. 

For many years she was
my dog; I think eleven
was her lifetime, so
so she made it to
seventy-seven, 
as dog years are
counted.  Regardless
of the age she made, she
gladdened me more that I
could ever ask.  When I’d
return from school, she’d
greet me in the driveway
with wagging tail and
happy eyes.  And that
was well-received. 

What of the godsends we
welcome?  Those beams
of light that flare our
path.  This canine
blessing was for
me a warm embrace;
it was a highlight of my
youth.  It seemed that
luxury rushed
through my veins,
knowing that this
dog was mine. 

Cleo was a treasure,
canine cool, a master-
piece of good effect. 
A value beyond
precious stone,
a beagle I could
call my own.


40 Lines 
Writer's Cramp
10-17-17
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