Doghouse
Well, I came home late one night
And much to my surprise
I was thrown right across the kitchen floor
She hit me right between the eyes.
Now Im living in the doghouse, doghouse
Doghouse, doghouse,
Doghouse, doghouse.
I was out with a friend of mine
We were feeling mighty fine
And we sure was movin fast
And I didnt make it back on time
And she put me in the doghouse, doghouse
Doghouse, doghouse,
Doghouse, doghouse.
I had a big tall red with one of my friends
He was feeling mighty fine
When I came home late that night
She hit me right between the eyes
And she put me in the doghouse, doghouse
Doghouse, doghouse,
Doghouse, doghouse.
She put me in the doghouse,
Doghouse, doghouse,
Im living in the doghouse,
Doghouse, doghouse,
Doghouse, doghouse.
So if you find yourself in a party mood
Let your conscience be your guide
Dont be like me and let lefty win
Or youll find yourself outside
Living in the doghouse, doghouse
Doghouse, doghouse,
Doghouse, doghouse.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Better in the Doghouse
Sometimes,
It's the wrong time...
To take your leash off me.
I prefer it in doghouse.
'Woof, woof.'
I like the service in the doghouse.
'Woof', woof'.
Sometimes,
It's the wrong time...
To take your leash off me.
I'm undisturbed when in the doghouse.
'Woof, woof'.
I get free pieces in the doghouse.
'Woof, woof.'
I get that pity kind of kitty when received,
When...
In the doghouse,
'Woof, woof'
In the doghouse,
'Woof, woof'.
That pity kitty that I get that's best to me...
Is in the doghouse,
'Woof, woof.'
The kitty's better in the doghouse.
'Woof, woof'.
I like it better in the doghouse.
'Woof, woof'.
Sometimes,
It's the wrong time...
To take your leash off me.
I prefer it in doghouse.
'Woof, woof.'
I like the service in the doghouse.
'Woof', woof'.
Sometimes,
It's the wrong time...
To take your leash off me.
The kitty's better in the doghouse.
'Woof, woof'.
It gets better in the doghouse.
'Woof, woof'.
I like it better in the doghouse.
'Woof, woof'.
I prefer it in the doghouse.
'Woof, woof'.
It's good and better in the doghouse.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Doghouse
Danny Dyer, Stephen Graham, Noel Clarke, Terry Stone, Christina Cole
from Doghouse (2009)
Submitted by Alex
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Doghouse
Out to the doghouse with you, thats what she said
Youve been inside too long now, I must clean the mess
Go in the backyard will you, practice your tricks
Go take yourself for a walk, you make me sick
Youre just a doggy, in a snap youre fetching the bone
And youre barking when she calls
Youre hiding behind the fence, youve been disobedient
Your fun and playfulness is so very becoming
But she has got you by the reins, and there is no running
Conditioned to salivate at the first sound of the bell
Feeding you the remains of yesterdays meal
Can you hear her calling from within the house?
Youre just a doggy, in a snap youre fetching the bone
And youre barking when she calls
Youre hiding behind the fence, youve been disobedient
Shape up boy!
Can you hear her calling, from within the house?
If you would stop barking, she might let you out
At last she opens the back gate, youre released, youre now free to
Roam
Youve been waiting for this moment for sometime and now you must
Go
Into the fields where there is laughter, there is peace and youre
Comfortable
Try to hold on now before she calls you home!
Youre in the doghouse
cause youre just a dog!
song performed by by Gwen Stefani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children's Party
May I join you in the doghouse, Rover?
I wish to retire till the party's over.
Since three o'clock I've done my best
To entertain each tiny guest. My conscience now I've left behind me,
And if they want me, let them find me.
I blew their bubbles, I sailed their boats,
I kept them from each other's throats. I told them tales of magic lands,
I took them out to wash their hands.
I sorted their rubbers and tied their laces,
I wiped their noses and dried their faces. Of similarities there's lots
Twixt tiny tots and Hottentots.
I've earned repose to heal the ravages
Of these angelic-looking savages. Oh, progeny playing by itself
Is a lonely little elf,
But progeny in roistering batches
Would drive St. francis from here to Natchez. Shunned are the games a parent proposes,
They prefer to squirt each other with hoses,
Their playmates are their natural foemen
And they like to poke each other's abdomen. Their joy needs another woe's to cushion it,
Say a puddle, and someone littler to push in it.
They observe with glee the ballistic results
Of ice cream with spoons for catapults, And inform the assembly with tears and glares
That everyone's presents are better than theirs.
Oh, little women and little men,
Someday I hope to love you again, But not till after the party's over,
So give me the key to the doghouse, Rover
poem by Ogden Nash
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dark Lady
Music :ulrich roth
Lyrics:ulrich roth
Sitting alone in the doghouse
Thinking of you all the time
Sighing, crying
Sitting alone in the doghouse
Thinking of you all the time
Sighing, crying
Dark lady
Sitting alone by my window
Counting the stars of the night
Waiting, hating
Sitting alone by my window
Counting the stars of the night
Waiting, hating
Dark lady
Sitting and watching the sunrise
Darkness is filling my eyes
Sighing, crying
Sitting and watching the sunrise
Darkness is filling my eyes
Sighing, crying
Dark lady
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleepwalkers
Who suture her heart?
It was torn apart.
When I met her
She was smell of liquor.
I waited until she gets sober
And she started talking in anger.
'I loved him and gave everything
But now he is having an affair
With my sister and they are going to marry soon.'
'I am very sorry my dear and I too a loner bird
But the problem is that I don't have a proper roost.
I sleep in a doghouse and how I take you to my sinking ship? '
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The DOGHOUSE
What did I say?
What did I do?
I'm in the doghouse
and I'm so blue.
If I could just remember
I'd make it up to you,
But my memory goes sailing
and finally when it's through
I land on my feet
and feel you retreat
from every thing that I do.
Can you give me a hint, just one little clue?
I'm tired of your drilling eyes
and what will ensue.
The cold, cold shoulder,
the hot temper
and all the missing affection.
I need some tender lovin'.
I've had enough rejection.
What did I say?
What did I do?
You'd better tell me
for I have no clue.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Treat Me Like The Dog I Am
Red rover, red rover
Got a bone but I cant come over
Never broken, never trained
You got me in the doghouse
On this dog chain
You treat me
Like the dog, like the dog I am
You beat me
Like the dog, like the dog I am
Oh master, go faster
Youre my bitch and Im your bastard
At the dog pound make me beg
Got me with my tail between my leg
You treat me
Like the dog, like the dog I am
You shame me
Like the dog, like the dog I am you treat me
Like the dog, like the dog I am
You kick me
Like the dog, like the dog I am
Just beat me, just bite me, just break me
Treat me like a dog
Just blame me, just shame me, then cage me
Treat me like a dog
Cause I need it
And I want it
And I deserve it
Treat me like a dog
Please slap me, please smack me
Crack me, whack me
And attack me
(chorus)
song performed by by Motley Crue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boy With A Problem
I feel like a boy with a problem
I can't believe what we've forgotten
And i even slapped your face and made you cry
It's the last thing i want to do
Pull the curtains on me and you
Pull the carpet from under love
Pull out like young lovers do
You swore you wouldn't shout
If it's not your punch then its your pout
Days in silence try my temper
Nights spent drinking to remember
How memories are always tender
I crept out last night behind your back
The little they know might be the pieces i lack
Came home drunk
Talking in circles
The spirit is willing but i don't believe in miracles
I've got a problem but let's go to bed
I can roll over and i can play dead
But here i am in the doghouse instead
I feel like a boy with a problem
I can't believe all you've forgotten
Sleeping with forgiveness in your heart for me
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love of Mr Chowdy
You loved to hug Mr Chowdy;
You liked it when his wet nose
Brushed your chin or his long
Tongue licked your ear. Don’t let
The darn mutt bark too much,
Father said, or he’ll have to go
And sleep in the yard out in the
Doghouse. You used to feed him
From scraps saved from meals,
Or pushed him small pieces under
The table out of sight of the others.
Some evenings you managed to
Sneak him into your room and let
Him lie in comfort on your bed;
Listening out in case the parents
Came and turfed him off into
The kitchen or out in the cold.
Some nights you could hear his
Heavy breathing across the way
Beside the window where you let
Him lay. Now you’re much older
And Mr Chowdy’s dead; now it’s
Your husband’s snoring and heavy
Breathing that you hear in bed.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pull My Chain
Got me on a short leash, tied to your screen door
I used to run with the big dogs 'til I stretched out on your front porch
Used to be a hound dog, chased a lot of fast cars
Now I don't even bark when the kitty cats stroll through the back yard
I used to howl at the moon, yeah I've been known to roam
Then I caught her trail one day, followed this girl home
I ain't the same, she knows how to put my chain
They say that an old dog, can't learn a new trick
Well she taught me to stay the first day and I learned real quick
There's a doghouse, a fence and a gate latch
I keep my tail waggin' and I don't mind beggin for a good scratch
I used to howl at the moon, yeah I've been known to roam
Then I met this girl one day that brought this old stray home
I ain't the same, she knows how to pull my chain
I used to howl at the moon, yeah I've been known to roam
Then I caught her trail one day, followed this girl home
I ain't the same, she knows how to pull my chain
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death Of An Unpopular Poet
By: jimmy buffett
1973
I once knew a poet
Who lived before his time
He and his dog spooner
Would listen while hed rhyme
Words to make ya happy
Words to make you cry
Then one day the poet suddenly did die
But he left behind a closet
Filled with verse and rhyme
And through some strange transaction
One was printed in the times
And everybodys searchin
For the king of undergound
Well they found him down in florida
With a tombstone for a crown
Everybody knows a line
From his book that cost four ninety-nine
I wonder if he knows hes doin
Quite this fine
cause his books are all best sellers
And his poems were turned to song
Had his brother on a talk show
Though they never got along
And now hes called immortal
Yes hes even taught in school
They say he used his talents
A most proficient tool
But he left all of his royalties
To spooner his ol hound
Growin old on steak and bacon
In a doghouse ten feet round
And everybody wonders
Did he really lose his mind
No he was just a poet who lived before his time
He was just a poet who lived before his time
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dog Life
It`s too painful to continue this dog life,
for all the doghouse walls are like the edge of knife, he had thought.
A collard hound prowling around a cruel, immortal millstone,
-rounding by an old dogmatic dog in the manger-
Looking for daily bread and far-fetching collar string,
-a pre-existent, invisible and really inflexible string-
Was dogging his doggish days down the drain.
The dog-tired dog while his dogs were barking,
Couldn`t hunt, neither the bread nor the string.
Submerged and completly deaf and blind,
Under the shady shadow of dogged millstone,
He was willingly barking his last barks,
While vomiting his former-life, by his own string.
His barks let sleeping dog lie, while
He can`t rememberhis putrid nightmare…
Even the vultures, having dogfight above it,
Don`t ask for whom the bells toll at night;
And I am still gazing at the poor pointer forget to breath,
Stopped on at eleven, at rest…
poem by Mahdi Karimi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Johnnie's in the Bathroom
Dear Diary,
I was standing in a bus stop today and they must have known I wanted to be
a model, so I'm gonna call them tomorrow. Won't be long before I'm in all
the big rock videos. The most incredible thing happened to me in Odella last
weekend; that's why I'm writing. You see, I met this guy...
Hey, wow
Wow, what's going on up there?
Did you have dinner yet?
Who wants dinner when you can get a goddamn good dick up your ass?
(laughs)
Oh, I need you girl
Huh?
I need you girl
You need me, boy?
Yeah....yeah, I need you too
Huh?
I need you too, baby
Dear Diary,
I can't write a lot; Johnnie's in the bathroom. I met him in Shasta tonight
and he's just incredible. He's got this long, straight, black hair and he
wears all this silver jewelry, velvet pants, black boots, etc.
I love your big muscles
It's a lickable pussy
Hi baby, how you doin?
Well, all y'all want some pussy?
Well, all y'all grab on the Soul Train line and get it
...guitarist for the Black Band Babies and we went in a doghouse
song performed by by Hole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jonnies In The Bathroom
Dear diary,
I was standing in a bus stop today and they must have known I wanted to? be a model,
So Im gonna call them tomorrow. wont be long before Im in all the big rock videos. the
Most incredible thing happened to me in? odella last weekend; thats why Im writing.
You see, I met this guy. . .
Hey, wow
Wow, whats going on up there?
Did you have dinner yet?
Who wants dinner when you can get a goddamn good dick up your ass?
(laughs)
Oh I need you girl
Huh?
I need you girl
You need me, boy?
Yeah....yeah I need you too
Huh?
I need you too, baby
Dear diary, I cant write a lot; johnnies in the bathroom. I met him in shasta tonight and hes just
Incredible. hes got this long, straight, black hair and he wears all this silver jewelry, velvet
I love your big muscles
Its a lickable pussy
Hi baby, how you doin?
Well all yall want some pussy?
Well, all yall grab on the soul train line and get it
...guitarist for the black band babies and we went in a doghouse...
song performed by by Hole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold Lore
Blackness shrouds the empty floor,
While shadows dance upon the door,
A memoriam of forgotten flaw,
Heart beating fast with eternal plight.
The cold wind blows, a doghouse sigh,
Flying in the medley of nigh,
I listen to the raven cry,
Deadly victim, quite contrite.
I hear a knock upon the roof,
A possum lay under furry hoof,
Memory lingers, yet to sooth,
The Cold Lore whispers in the inky night.
The moon endures a pallour glow,
The rocking chair moves to and fro,
I think of the one that I love so,
I wait for dawn's first light.
Glitter stars and circumstance,
Law and right, in every dance,
The infected wound, yet to be lanced,
The apathy of the raven's flight.
Coldspire lingers a devil's scream,
The sunrise glows, the night's a dream,
I will never know what the twilight means,
Blood red Shepard's delight.
I sit upon a rocking chair,
As death, it takes me with gentle care,
I see my corpse, just sitting there,
6 hours since midnight.
At the end of every life,
Calls the raven, a herald of strife,
We step the edge of our own knife,
I see the demon firelight.
When the hour strike 13th chime,
And a child can drink the juice of lime,
When within a star exists a dime,
There shall be no night.
poem by Stuart Logan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Message For The KIng (TKTWBH) ......An UNPOEM [LONG; Funny? ; Fantasy]
BIG HEAD, (MY WIFE'S TITLE FOR YOU) ........
she says what are you talking about, huh? huh?
my wife says (if i can remember it all) (not in this order) :
'it'' is Her house, Her chair, Her computer, Her HUSBAND, unlike in U.K. where the wife belongs to the husband. here in california the husband belongs to the wife. how's that? (Her words again; forgive my wife dear King) .
she is a tax accountant, worked 12 hrs a day,7 days a week [not all the time, King, but don't tell her i told you so]. she used two or three screens simultaneously! ! ! ! she worked long and hard during her career, which allowed her to have TWO houses in the most expensive housing area between san francisco and silicon valley, ....[one is rented for 2400 hundred a month/was 2700 hundred but she felt sorry for the two loser engineers, a married couple, who rent from her. (she also was afraid she might lose them to the competition after a yr or so of paying 2700....that's greenbacks i'm talking...US dollars that is) ]....don't tell her i told YOU that, please, Your Hinnyness.
She was gesticulating with Her arms as She shouted Her words to me from across the room. [but She DID have a big smile on Her face.....probably because She is SO PROUD of Herself...for Her financial success (sound familiar King?) as well as her defiance of Your male chauvinist pig words].
She says She 'beat the odds'.. She came here not speaking english. She says 'SOME people....(not ME King...believe me?) ....say She still can't speak english. She is a woman, another obstacle to Her in this great country. She came here in/with one suitcase only! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Now She says She came here IN the suitcase.? She can make a joke herself once in a great while. i don't think her people are much on humor. she is 'ESL' that's english is 'second language', King.
She says 'what is he? gay? '.....but don't worry King, neither of us care what sexual preference You have...You do have ONE?
personally i find it to my advantage, living with Her, to always watch my words and voice volume. but alas, i am not careful enough and often end up in the unroyal doghouse. i have to feign crying and ask for forgiveness and say 'i'm sorry'.....she also doesn't like me calling her 'honey', but 'dear' and darling and sweetheart don't bring any trouble. thanks goodness.
hey King, what can we do? ? she is japanese, born and raised; maybe that has something to do with her poor attitude. again, PLEASE FORGIVE HER. thanks King.
i just read this to Her [adding a new section in the middle]. AND She reminds me that i was supposed to tell you that YOU HAVE A BIG HEAD but i, Her husband HAVE A BIG MOUTH. in fact King, now She says you should change your name to BIG MOUTH. oh, sorry King for not capitalizing your pronouns as i typed. i HAD to capitalize Hers and the computer contains a limited number of capitals i think so i had to be conservative. i'll try to make it up to you in a later message some day. bri edwards, henpecked husband....but well-cared for by my loving wife.
(Nov.2012)
poem by Bri Edwards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Licking the Chops [1930 slang]
Just copped a fraughty issue earlier in the bright
Need to feel murder
So I air out to jam with the jacks
This early black I jump in port
Passing several yard dogs
And a couple of pounders
Before arriving to the joint
Once I get to this frolic pad
Rock Hill Night Club
The cats are frisking the whiskers
I'm the hep cat of the group on the doghouse
Last black I have put new strings on it
I have brought my oomph girl along
She's a fine dinner
We had hoover flags a set on seven brights ago
So we had hoover blankets to keep warm every black
Could not collar enough dough
With the skiffle we hosted for the rent
So was evicted
Yet I've been able to save enough lettuce
To get back my zoot suit out of the hock shop
Am togged to the bricks
I have a nickle note in my mouse
Been ages I've had one of them
Usually have less than a simoleon
Do you know how difficult to have ground rations?
Near a free food dump in the Big Apple
Would have a killer-diller if we were inside our own pad
All we could get our mitts on were break-ups
We didn't fog at the right time
I hear [Albert] speak, who is on the ironworks
Which he will break it up
He's a barrelhouse
He tells [Andrew]
'Stop spoutingand give us some groovy licks
on that gob stick of yours'
When he doesn't have his gob stick in his kisser
He likes to beat up the chops
Then there's this wolf [Auggie] on the squeeze box
We have a shadow [Jim] on his reeds
There's also [Adela] with the tram who's a gasser
On the belly-fiddle [Ashley] which gives hard spiel
Then there's this pimp [Damon] who brings his tootsy [Cindy]
He beats the hides
He always has a timber in his kisser
While he beats it
He's great jiving with the aligators
We have this sender [Greg] a scream
who jumps in to sing on occasion
Also a bit of fluff [Cydie] croons
What an out of the world canary she is indeed
This evening she brought along her main on the hitch [Bob]
When both imbibe too much scrap iron
They ingage in playing the dozen
The crowd to our left
Just befor you get to the johns
Are those three-letter men
At the bar as always is that gator forced
Later he's been a wet smack
He gripes my soul
He has these shaky gams on occasion
His pal use to come out to jam with his squeeze box
He eventually has too much juice
That he begins to rank the music's style
He use to keep company with a bich kitty
Haven't seen neither for three months
Most of the gates would love to
Get their dukes on her maracas
Some of the musicians hinge at it too much
That they would play corny
It went sadder than a map
With their relationship
When she began to imbibe too much sauce
They were finding themselves without any moolah
Not even hay
All of a sudden the jam becomes a clambake
evntually this babe [Sara] begins to croon
And we begin to get back in the groove
She's always a hummer while roofing with
One could just moon digging into her glims
Every black this joint is jumping
This black is no reception
Then this rug cutter[Matt] comes to the dance floor
To lay some iron that was kopasetic
We've only been here a little over a chime
When this chick with a foghorn and cogs on her face
Along with nifty drapes
Had the moxie to louse up this hep boogie woogie
Then comes these two sisters to the main kick
[Maynah] and [Maggie]
These gabriels' playing are dicty
Although over do it at times
When they are gamming
Their growls are mezz
We stay until brightning
Then head back to my domi
At the [G.G. Mama's apartments
While entering two bombshells {Nancy] and [Barbara] exits
poem by R.K. Cowles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Greenie
A frog, dark green, sat in the gutter
and waited for the frightened flutter
of insects native to these parts.
He heard, that evening, just farts.
He had been raised by his grandmother
together with a younger brother.
His mom had died when she was two
inside the cistern of a loo.
The plumber had installed within
and fastened by a stainless pin
a reservoir that would dispense
blue liquid here to recompense
for odours, stains and other matters
like flying pieces, even splatters.
Yet no one had observed the critter
who spent her days inside the shitter.
Her skin was green, she was depressed
although with man and children blessed.
Postpartum blues had been the rumour,
her neighbour whispered the word tumour.
She was in somewhat of a trance
and took the first and final chance
drank Mrs. Stewart's liquid blue
and found her private Waterloo.
But I digress, back to emissions
they sound in insects like small fissions,
though frogs can never ascertain
if creatures on the windowpane
are moving, ready to be guzzled
or if their rectum is unmuzzled.
The flutter is what Nature chose
it is a way to diagnose.
A thunderbolt now shook the city
what follows really was a pity.
A huge white bird with bright red feet
reached up and grabbed, to taste and eat
the frog, our hero who had not
hatched from his mother's rooftop cot.
Still mourning noisily her death,
he took a long and final breath.
The stork, who had no true compassion
raised up his beak in normal fashion.
But when he opened up his gizzard
the frog became a panicked wizard.
He grabbed and held with sweaty hands
the neck below the spittle glands,
and squeezed the red and straining tube
which had been filled with mucoid lube
to properly facilitate
the frog into an altered state.
Now picture this, and bear with me
can you imagine, do you see
the stork, who was the cruel brute,
was thus deprived of his own shute!
They struggled on right until Dawn
until the insects all had gone.
The frog, like all our living souls
had dreams and principles and goals.
His body though was only free
to breathe and live with ATP.
Now ATP is what each cell
consumes, if not it goes to Hell.
There is, in humans and in frogs
a limit, meaning strength then bogs
and falters badly for a while
perhaps for just another mile.
Then comes the end and you will die.
And this now faced the dark green guy.
He prayed in silence as he knew
that there was nothing else to do.
But, he might hold that iron grip
until he would abandon ship.
That moment saw a flying moth
which looked a bit like Bilroth cloth,
raise lazily from in the gutter
and stretch its double wings to flutter.
They all could see this insect had
slept in or else it was quite mad.
It flew straight in the stork's white face
a Northern Kamikaze ace!
But, hold your horses, reader dear,
big bird had never been in fear
until this unexpected thing
with hair and gristle, double wing,
came out of nowhere as he tried
to get that bloomin' frog inside.
He jumped, propelled by spindly legs
and dropped enroute two dozen eggs.
He also dropped the little one
who quickly landed, then to run
and hide behind the house of Rover
still panting, happy it was over.
This woke big Rover who'd been sleeping
he heard the frog's hysteric weeping
and, being kind, he said hey Greenie,
come here I'm friendly, not a meanie,
so frog went over and was seated
and told the dog he was depleted
and that the incident had been
a miracle. He'd saved his skin.
The dog began to scratch and fuss
and they spent hours to discuss
how to avoid a new disaster.
Then Rover said, 'I am the master,
I do propose you change your diet,
I also think it quite a riot
how anyone can eat those things
with spider legs and see through wings! '
'If you reform your dangerous ways
it is unlikely that the gaze
of any bird will ever see
you as a victim. Stay with me! '
They did get on like long lost lovers
and Rover shared his velvet covers,
so both stayed warm during the night
and in the morning, at first light
the Master of the house would bring
some dog chow plus a chicken wing,
and gravy made from marrow bones
dessert was two small ice cream cones.
There was enough for both of course,
and Master said 'well you old horse,
you found a friend, perhaps for life,
let me go in and tell the wife.'
They all were happy and contented,
the stork though walked around demented.****
He never did recover fully
or act as terrorist and bully.
So, I for one am gratified
that Rover took the button-eyed
and down and out and almost dead
green frog as mate into his bed.
As friendship is becoming rare
we need to cuddle and to share.
Some day there may not be a friend
to share our doghouse, in the end.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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