Sylvie


For single-minded stubbornness,
There's no one who can quite compare
With Sylvie, swift and slim and fair.

A nine-pound marvel, more or less,
Her will is clear, her goals are known—
Be it yard or be it throne.

My role is simply to assist
The making of her daily rounds
From indoor laps to outdoor grounds.

If I demur, she will insist,
Returning with rapidity
In search of lap by way of knee.

She would go out? I must comply,
And to the door I quickly fly.
If any plans I choose to make,
They're set aside for Sylvie's sake.



©2019 Michael Fraley




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