we met in roundhay park,

she was walking her hound,

fettered with a muzzle, the

dog barely made a sound

 

that was half a life-time ago,

long defunct that labrador,

I'm the one on a short lead,

I rarely talk, let alone roar

 

personality's behind bars,

independence gone west,

castrated, house-trained,

where obedience is best

 

a daily run in the garden,

regular trips to the vet,

she cleans up after me,

a prisoner, not her pet

 

coats turning grey now,

back legs starting to go,

no good for breeding,

bladder always a-flow

 

hints of dogs' homes,one

last jab to end my pain,

I'd bite my hand off for a

run in the park in the rain