The Cellar Door Poem by J. W. Foulk

The Cellar Door



The cellar door where I could find him,
just dreaming his cares away,
thinking of his younger days
when he would roam
the back woods looking
for rabbits or a bird or two.

Cellar door was where he always
laid to escape the hot summer sun
and to take in the cool breezes,
that sometimes blew his way.

Cellar door where I would go
and talk with him and get a kiss
or two and a wag from his bushy tail,
putting my arms around him and
remembering our days of childhood.

Old Shep passed on in 1960, the year I turned 17,
rememembering so many things about him and that
old cellar door.


(3-30-11)

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J. W. Foulk

J. W. Foulk

Des Moines Iowa
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