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What is
that thing that stands before me,
Why is it lurking there?
Why is it searching, looking me over,
Why does it stand and stare?
What is
it asking, what does it want,
What is it trying to say?
Why is it watching the things I do,
Why won't it go away?
Why does
it shadow each move I make,
Why does it hang around?
Why does it follow me room to room,
Why does it make no sound?
Why is it
wanting to stay with me,
Why do I want it to stay?
Why can I never be on my own,
Why is it here night and day?
So many
questions I ask myself,
Yet only one answer I see,
The answer that seems to make most sense,
"The puppy belongs to me."
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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