Harry

• Caris Blayney, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2005

What is that acessive noise?
I quickly abandoned my old toys.
Heading out the back to investergate,
It seems to me I'm obiously to late.

There pushing that new dog my master,
I try to catch them but they run faster.
Turning toward me at a walking pace,
That dogs trying to beat me in a race.

With a large engine and a handle,
Now chewing up my favouirite sandle.
Charging toward me the buzzing stops,
Greatfully, then my small mouth drops.

That dog was not full with class,
Though something I like to call grass.
I had infact not been restored,
But master finishing her weekly chores.