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Guest Poet Dolan Gish

She sits,
waiting for me to move,
waiting for a prize,
a prize she has always valued,
in her mind

and heart.

She doesn't need a present,
she asks for no material possesions,
she begs not for physical items...
I get up from my chair,
walk over to her

I sit down next to her on the floor,
we look each other in the eyes,
we sit there,
eyes fixed on one another...

I break,

I get up,
and reaching down ever so gently
I pat her on the head and say her most valued words...

"good dog"

November, 2001

Dolan Gish's questions:

Hello, I'd like you to critique me on word choice, I also feel this poem needs to have a bit more of a buildup to the end.

I would also like suggestions on a possible titile, I would like something that would have a breif description but not give away the surprise at the end.

Thank you for your time.

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