Dog and RoseWe are two ill-fitting metaphors.
You're the cliched lover-rose
And I am one of Pavlov's dogs.
When you bloom, you're beautiful,
And fragrant, all I'd ever want,
But you don't blossom often now.
I sense no buds, no signs of life,
As I push my nose close to you.
I find a stem and thorns. That's all,
And I begin to bleed. I'm the
Cheated pooch who learned to come
To you to be rewarded. These days,
I don't get a treat, but I still come,
Still hope, because that's how
I have been trained.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
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Written on 2016-12-17 at 12:50
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