First dog poem: Deoge

Llasa-poo

The one who lasts with silver hairs
in black and white, like any star
shooting to this greeting, or the
spokes of a tire going this distance.

A statue in the night when groomed,
the clippers buzzing in a yellow room,
layers of bear when you are a honey.

Not big, not small, curling up like lashes
on the brown couch, you are me, a shadow,
a helper, the best kisses on my nose
matching yours and smelling food.

Pawing at the car window when pulling
into the park, who says you're spoiled,
who says I didn't need this security.