Simon
- Amy Frank
- Mar 8, 2004
- 1 min read
(Based on my father’s first seeing eye dog)
Written in 2004, updated in 2015
Crèma floating on the top of the shot glass
Rich, and creamy —
A warm ardent kiss.
Slender spun legs chiseled into his frame
The form of a fish
lingering thick to thin.
Bones of the body, the skeleton.
Like a statue he stood
stoic and proud
Noble in his duties
...most of the time.
Like a sphinx he sat, a legend, a story.
Passed on to the generations
by the forefathers.
Like a dragon he rested
in his cavern,
the chairs.
A rabbit, he wavered through the powdered snow
A blend of paint on the landscape
A deer prancing through the grove
A stallions hooves beating
on the sun-baked earth.
He jumped like a wayward mare.
A teddy bear to touch
Warm wool of a bleating lamb
gently curled like the tides of the sea
Melting into the sand bar.
By heading, a dog,
reflecting a God
A quilt of the finest threads
of silk.
You were the eyes
of my father.
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