Rufuz does the thinking…

I am not the writer you thought,

For I allow my dog his muse to be caught,

He writes and thinks as he was taught,

My writing and thinking has gone for naught…

I am only kept around to type,

As my fingers can do the walking over the keys without any gripe,

His paws are too cumbersome and tight,

He only keeps me around to with fight…

For the life of me I don’t know what I can do,

I work all day, come home and am forced to write the night through,

He works me to death with a leash and collar,

He barely, when I walk out of the house, does lend me a dollar,

Though I suppose I have to acquiesce, as he is in this house the perfect scholar…J

          © ed ~ 7/3/05