Game of Cones

I have a dog whose name is Spark

Who sometimes takes me to the park

Where we enjoy an evening stroll

I feed the ducks; he’s on patrol.

An old pro, Spark knows all the tricks

From playing dead to fetching sticks

His latest one involves a scheme

Which bags him loads of free ice cream.

He’ll spy a toddler on his own

Who’s struggling with a waffle cone

One far too big for little hands

And all the balance that demands.

Spark uses charm and big, brown eyes

To get him closer to the prize

Then as he nears these little ones

That’s when he grabs the cone and runs.

I’m deeply saddened by each theft

And every howl from the bereft

Whose double-scoops of lemon lime

Perpetuate this life of crime.

The mothers round on Spark and curse

So I make sure they’re reimbursed

Which throws the whole plan in reverse

For he was taught to steal a purse…

Sole Mates

Handsome young runner tying shoelaces on the track in the spring ...

Park Guy

Running by

Catching everybody’s eye

Chiseled face

Killer pace

Never comes in second place

Hasn’t time to stop and chat

Training isn’t meant for that

Sprints past like a thoroughbred

Focused on the road ahead

You enflame

It’s a game

Will I ever learn your name?

Park Guy

Running by

Catching everybody’s eye