Margaret Elizabeth, my birthday girl,
Ten, and ears graying, with white eyelashes,
She sleeps a lot,
And that’s technically seventy,
An aging Corgi,
Yet my baby will always be my little baby,
No matter her age.
Can dogs smile?
Yes they can,
Nub, tail cut off at the quick, nub wags madly,
A glow in her eye,
A delighted expression on her face,
My daughter grabs a toy,
Thrilled that I’m home.