Daisy, I say, here’s a lesson in form:
Let our words go to the end of the line,
As poets, well before you were born,
Gave shape to the world through well-chosen rhyme.
Daisy is quiet, so I start with her nose:
So agile, snuffly, pointy and wet!
Look, Daisy! I say, that’s just how it goes:
You’re now pride of place in your own sonnet.
But Daisy, tail down, seems not to agree.
You have forgotten, she says, my paws, my eyes!
I don’t like it in here – please set me free!
She buffs at my leg and heartily sighs:
From where I am standing nothing is worse –
Ignored as a dog, adored as a verse.