THE CYNIC

            This little dog tucked in beside my hip
            And the chair arm serves as my morning muse
            While I sit here to contemplate and sip
            My café-latte brew, looking for clues:

            A word, a phrase, a topic to explore,
            Some question that needs pondering in verse,
            A theme to make imagination soar
            Prompting apt words and phrases to disburse.

            As you might sense, my pup’s abandoned me,
            Hopped down to nestle in her cozy bed,
            Dismayed to find me writing poetry
            About itself, a subject best unsaid.

                 Come back, dear doggie, and I’ll write of you
                 And all the many pleasures you pursue.

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