The Wubbling Puggler
A Bite Sized Poem
Puggler wubbled like a tottering tibble.
Biggling and bubbling as his body grumbled and rippled.
When his shroud sniff caught a whiff of his favorite dish, Puggler’s tail wiggled with a tickled, delightful swish.
Double cheese on that burger please - Puggler chuckled with glee as he awaited his savory feed.
As his belly rumbled, his mandibles quivered with feverish vigor.
His meat.
His right.
His treat.
His life.
The spell paused.
Puggler sighed.
She died three years ago.
This spot their favorite place to go.
It started as mourning where their love was born.
A weepy feast, watering this deceased garden’s seed sodden in grief forlorn.
He yearned for the rose, yet it never bloomed.
Once red, now dead - laid in its tomb.
As he clenched down, the meal gnawed his insides seeping with the venom of poisoned lies.
He needed to leave, and yet he stayed.
Because a part of him died within her grave.
His slow bite to feel.
His savory slice.
His short cut to heal.
With a butter knife.