Stones like bones dried grapes
with no color or taste a flavor
sharply
bitter sweet morning dew
that keeps its moisture well
balanced with its thoughts
of a being that is
a being without motivation
toward its own kind
its teardropp eyes blank
dead and not seeing
steel barrel
and a steady rain of sorrow
drops its shadow and its imagination
an image within
another moonlight
and another midnight dream
prepared for a dreamer
of nightmares-
Dorsey Baker
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-social-life-of-a-dog/
