Garden

I sit in my wheelchair
Reading in the garden,
Wind chimes faint from
The front porch on the
Other side of the house.
Everything seems to be
In bloom a cacophony
Of scents colors sounds
As the breeze ruffles by.
The sunshine is bright
But not hot in the breeze,
Carol is busy upstairs with
Rosy watching her every
Move though the dog is
Conflicted when she is
With both of us not
Knowing which to
Turn to since we
Both feed her.
Rosy wants
To sleep
On my
Feet
Or
At my
Right side
If I turn left to
Talk with Carol,
Who wants to know
Why her dog is cozying
Up to me to which I reply
Tongue in check grinningly
That as I am the alpha male
Such behavior is instinctual
In a pack animal like Rosy.
Carol rolls her eyes and
Humpfs her disbelief
Checking to see if
I am sneaking
Rosy bits of
Chicken
Or a
Doggie
Treat of some
Kind but there is
No rhyme or reason
To my poems or
Rosy’s taste
In alpha
Males.
Any
Parent
Can tell
You about
Their teenage
Daughter’s choices,
Why, oh why him?
Carol
Is aware
More than
Most of
Irony.