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by Fyn
Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2270802
And I thought I could write for an hour or so...
Underneath my desk
is a cozy nook.
The dog loves it there,
curled up in my blanket
that I couldn't find.
In finding the blanket,
I also found
a hoarded stash of puppy treats,
perhaps a pound
or two! A mostly chewed
sock that will never toe
a line, my missing sneaker,
a teddy bear (MINE!),
a slew of her toys, and
a dog-eared book.
Who knew she read in her
cozy nook? A broken candle
with wax impressions, a ball.
and several crusts of bread.

On hands and knees, I cleaned
out her nook, while she
cried and whined, and did her best
to try and snag
everything I pulled out.
'Just look at this mess!' I said in a huff.
Didn't even look guilty and ran off
with my stuff. An hour later
it's all nice and clean, and so is my desk
(which I'll admit, was quite a mess.)
I left the dead sock but kept my book
and she's now sleeping, tucked in her nook.

On a fresh clean blanket, that sock
in her paws, a bone hangs slack in
napping jaws. The picture of innocence
but I know better, you see.
When 'Mom' is busy, this time to play
and see what mischief she'll get into today.
I'll find out later, I've work to do
and it will all still be there
awaiting me. For now, she's rolled over
and is warming my toes,
I get back to writing and on
life goes. There's much to be said
about letting a sleeping dog be--

Aand there goes the doorbell and
she's off to go see...






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