Puppies prance packed of giddy glee,
to the tire hung from the lone tree.
Carefree intentions, receiving the rose,
taking her place, directing the pose.
He push's, while her heart undergoes,
that floating sensation from hilly back roads.
And again he push's, and it never occurs,
that the turn to push, is never hers.
Feelings require one remaining desire;
to display mellow, while engulfed in fire.
Fore one moment alone is forever,
and being with her is nearly never.
But the desolate island begins to turn,
lying motionless, his stomach churns.
He urges to find food and water,
yet knows that he'll get no farther.
He is wise to the only remaining location,
that can prevent a slow but sure starvation.
So he push's, the last puppy in the cage,
up until the new owner, takes her away.