A Poem About A Wise Dog Smoking a Pipe

A dog with a pipe, so grand and so wise,

Stares at the trees with thoughtful eyes.

“The squirrels are busy, the birds are a’chirp,

But I think I’ll nap and let out a burp.”

The wind whispers secrets, the leaves start to dance,

He puffs on his pipe, lost in a trance.

“A bone in my dreams, a treat by my side,

Life’s just a walk, with the world as my guide.”

But thoughts start to linger, as thoughts often do,

Drifting to questions—both old and new.

He watches a cat, so sleek and so sly,

With eyes full of secrets and schemes passing by.

“What drives a cat?” the wise dog mused,

“They sleep in the sun, so aloof and amused.

They slink through the night, with no master in sight—

Are they lost in the dark, or just savoring the light?”

His tail gives a twitch as another thought stirs,

The weight of a question that always recurs.

“Has it been five minutes or five years, I fear,

Since my master left—will he reappear?”

Time is a puzzle, a curious game,

Moments stretch long, then vanish the same.

A clock may keep ticking, but what does it know?

For a dog left alone, each second moves slow.

Yet still, he waits, with patience untamed,

For love is a tether that cannot be named.

He puffs on his pipe, gazing up at the sky,

And ponders the purpose of dogs such as I.

Is life in the waiting, the chase, or the rest?

Is joy in the belly, the treat, or the quest?

The meaning of time, the mysteries above—

All fade in the light of a master’s love.

For no higher honor, no grander delight,

Than hearing “good boy” as day fades to night.