Oh dearest one, envy changes my smile to scowl, love.
Your beauty is exotic, present in your rolls and jowl, love.
Do you know the pain I feel as I watch others caress you?
As they run their hands through your hair, I stifle a howl, love.
As I see you, I remember the blissful and happy times:
You, running into my arms naked, free of even a towel, love.
You follow them with ease, lured by simple promises.
Stay with me, beloved, for they lust for mice like an owl, love.
Our evening walks are tranquil, sans the ones who pass us by.
You rush to any jogger or monk, licking every shoe or cowl, love.
Let us etch our name into a bench, Tyler written on the right.
Then mark the left with your tiny paw, find a squirrel, and growl, love.
(Written with the intent of employing traditional ghazal structure, and in tribute to my English Bulldog.)
Tyler Sookralli is a high school junior who spends his free time immersed in the engulfing world of literature and the arts. The two primary guiding forces in his life are storytelling and music (which often find themselves intertwined). As a writer, he has no greater goal than to learn from others and become the best storyteller he has the potential to be.