South Poop

Let us trot then, you and I,
Where pooches dare to squat and sigh,
A furry bard with tails to ply,
Among the grass where treasures lie.

Yellow streetlamps with a flicker,
Reveal the paths where canines bicker,
Among the gardens, they’re the pickers,
In moonlit nights, a scent-filled liquor.

The moon retreats, the stars are bright,
Above the lawns of the silent night,
There, ‘neath the trees, in plain sight,
Lie parcels left by nature’s might.

Oh, do they dare remain ignored,
These offerings left untoward?
Full of stories yet unexplored,
In each mound, a mystery stored.

And should I, with bag in hand,
Dispose of waste so nobly planned?
Or let it linger, mark the land,
A silent story, hard to withstand?

Oh, Fido, do you pause and ponder,
As you squat and pause yonder,
What legacies you leave behind,
In each pile left for humankind?

Do you measure out your days,
In steaming heaps and odorous sprays,
Wondering if these trails you blaze,
Will echo in the nights and days?

So let us wander, you and I,
In that realm where dog waste lies,
With every mound that meets the eye,
A chapter in the canine’s sigh.

And as we tread upon this earth,
A symphony of scents and mirth,
Remember well the stories told,
In each little mound, a tale unfolds.

“> the first few verses of the love song of j alfred prufrock, but make it about dog poo”