POEMS in dinner and carnal pleasures.

A collection of poetry by someone who isn't really a poet.

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With each autumn leaf that strips bare our backyard tree

Grey whiskers sprout around your muzzle.
And appear in your brows and on your chin.
The passing years bleach the colour from your noble face,
But noble you remain.

Your eyes become glassy, but never stop seeking.

Your nose, moist as though with morning dew, twitches at the prospect of food;
but your mouth has ceased its childlike wolfing. 
Every cold draft that escapes through the door chills your bones
Frailer bones, beneath thinning coat.

 While hands, feet and mouths  in motion all around you,

You’ve found a filtering of winter sun and here you will lie
Belly up, drowsy jowls rimmed with pearly canines that, in your youth,
Flared at unsuspecting strangers.

My liege, you have watched over me with quiet grace.

Stern and gentle and kind of face.