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A Soldier's March

His house sits empty and still as

the melody of his favorite classical sonata

dances through open spaces.

On a blue sofa pushed against

the bay window overlooking

empty suburban streets. He stands

attentive at his perch. Through his spotted gaze

he switches between muted growls

and anxious whimpers directed at passing cars

and the thumping of his

own pointed ears.

He masquerades on stubbed legs

decorated by tufts of grey fur,

poking from his rear like peacock feathers.

Engaging in a Lieutenant’s march,

Left, Left, Left, Right, Left

Waddle, Waddle, Right, Left

Tumble, Chin-Up, Tongue Out, Shoulders Back

The soldier fights the urge to sleep

as his head sinks into a plush pillow.

An easy battle in his youth now

becomes a challenge as his stiff legs weigh

down on him like wet sand.

The trickle of melodic violins delivers

a final blow knocking him out

into a deep slumber,

as the front door swings open.

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