Gentle Readers,
I've been working on some poetic tributes for several dear friends. Sadly, a face-lick can only say so much.
I know I'm no Whip-Poet, but if you'll indulge me…
My friend Morgane is a pretty whippet
Given a drink, she'll not slurp, but sip it
When she stretches, you'll see all her ribs
'Cause when food plummets floor-ward, she gives me dibs
She dozes quite often – a most charming habit
Her legs twitch in sleep, like she's chasing a rabbit
Her nose is sharp, in form and in function
In saying this next part, I have no compunction
You may search high and low, about and around
But you will not find a more elegant hound
I thank you for your time. I'll be paw-tographing copies of my forthcoming book, "Heaves of Grass" by the big bone statue in Tompkins Square Park every afternoon, so please let me make your acquaintance.
M.T.D.
