Every day at half past four,
Mick and Pat walked out the door.
Down the street and through the park
Mick greeted pals with a single bark.
Under the bench, at the bar
he patiently sat, as Pat played darts.
At five o'clock, they made their way,
home again, like every day.
Pat clutched his chest and softly swore
suddenly fell onto the floor.
Confused, Mick chased the flashing lights,
sat by the doors, three lonely nights.
A young man appeared, Mick's spirits soared,
inside his chest, beat the heart he adored.
With canine joy, he couldn't hide,
he wagged his tail and walked beside.
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| Writing Prompt |
Write a poem of any type and any length that tells a story. |
Author Notes
Thanks to dragifortuna for the perfect illustration.
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