A White Staffie

I want to be a dog,
not a cat, not a ferret,
but a white staffie.

I want to be a staffie so I can run,
free in the fields,
not coming home when I am called.

I want to be a crazy staffie,
running into electric fences, jumping out of bedroom windows,
curling under the blankets at night, when it’s cold.

Don’t ask me to clean up baby sick,
staffies can’t do that.

Don’t ask me to make tea with whatever’s in the fridge,
staffies can’t cook.

I’m happiest when I take long walks,
in the fields and puddles.
I’m going to be a crazy staffie.

Irene Drummond