Donster Monster
Donster crashes kitchen doors; whirling hands askew;
Cracks and breaks; divides the plates; spatter freckles spew.
A brute to see: whiskers wild; his mouth a toothless cave;
Yet tender touches calmed pain’s wrench: relief his fingers gave.
Afford him berth, vast and fast; to twist and swing his girth;
For brute’s a bear of gentle stuff; beneath his matted dearth.

Oct 05, 2015 @ 05:52:22
Great poem. I hope Don is okay.
LikeLike
Oct 05, 2015 @ 09:15:14
Don is thriving; I just like to give him space to be himself: inhabit the kitchen; kick up the dust!
LikeLike