Love in a Black Sack

The final leaves of autumn hang from decimated trees

The daybreak mist is lifting; there’s a stiff, refreshing breeze

I hope I’ve timed this dog walk right to try and catch the eye

Of that pretty lady jogger who each morning dances by

But there’s just one thing that’s stopping me and it’s not that I’m too shy

I’ve got a hot steaming dog poo in this bag

I have lay in bed imagining that first time that we speak

Rehearsed my lines a thousand times; refined my opening technique

We’d talk about how beautiful it is this time of year

She’d be standing close, all lycra clad – my inhibitions disappear

But there’s just one part I can’t escape that brings me abject fear

That I’d have a freshly baked dog turd in a bag

There she is! I see her – bounding gleefully this way

I screw my courage to the sticking point and practice what to say

She’s stopped to tie her shoelace – I won’t get a better chance

To strike a conversation and start our blossoming romance

But my dread comes to fruition – my most fearful circumstance

Must lose this dirty dog excrement in a bag!

The moment I have dreamt of’s here – not sure what to do

She will be passing by in seconds and I am holding canine poo

I scan my immediacy in panic looking superficially

For somewhere apt to hide this chap and do it drastically

There’s only one thing for it – I’ll launch it in the nearest tree

There goes that filthy dog nugget in a bag

It’s five years since we first locked eyes – I always will value

That decision to sling that dog shit up a sparsely covered Yew

So the next time you’re out walking and you spot a dangling sack

Hanging from a leafless branch; a dirty secret shroud in black

It might have been the start of love as I look fondly back

At that beautiful steaming dog poo in a bag