The Dream Of Dogs

He sprawls, tan fur fanned
On carpets, or tiles
Or anywhere
The narrowing twitches
Of wakefulness
Flee like fleas

For a few moments
He is still -
More stationary
Than dogs ought to be
But the energy
Floods into his sleep
Colouring his greyscale
Dream for dogs

And what does he dream?
What makes him
To whimper
And snuff?
To huff out
The echo of a bark,
Which rings across
The forests of canine mind?

Does he dream of fame and riches
(think of all them bitches!)
A faster car with windows
To hang out of?
Chihuahua power? To be a trend Setter?
A better class of orifice
To sniff.
After all, it all comes down to
Shih Tzu

Or is it just his patch
Of peacetime in the sun.
Does he paw the air,
Galloping on rabbit-flavoured cloud
Dog-ear desperation
With a flying tongue,
Mad in the midday sun,
Tasting fields of freedom with his feet?

Simple, his dreams
And innocent.
Running - unchained -
The ribbons of scent,
Puppied under fenceless sky
For this is the dream of dogs.