Rope a Dope
Big dog climbing up a fence
little dog yipping away
a whirling water hose
over my head.
There is no fear of being dead.
There is no hope of finding dread.
there is no hate in baking bread.
there is no anger on my head.
Just a water lasso going 'round
a climbing dog
a lady singing from her balcony
for her little pooch to return.
© 2014 nPoet9 Publishing. All Rights Reserved.
From "Race Relations" by Byron Haskins. Amazon Kindle.