User Review( votes)
written by: Rob J. Mann
He refuses to fetch my shoes when he needs walking,
Never did learn that accommodating trick.
Just sits there, head cocked to one side,
Pretending not to understand, whimpering softly.
They sit, dutifully waiting, on the hallway stand,
Lurking in the espadrilles, trainers and shiny, well-heeled soles.
Boots of an older generation, wrinkled patina of rustic ramblings,
Liberally overlaid with domestic dander and neglect.