He looked at him
With those dark doleful eyes
A look of patience across his face
Or was that imagined!
No matter which way he looked
Those eyes seemed to follow him
His need held no disguise.

Yet was so tired
He ached all over from sweeping
The old rheumatics playing up.
But he knew he’d give in
That he would be happy to
That he too needed such upkeeping.

So, getting the lead, he whistled
‘All right boy, let’s go for that walk.’

©Joe Wilson – That look…2018