My uncle is 89. He is a WW II vet and had a long history in corporate america. The one thing most folks don’t know about my uncle is that he is a poet. His first poem which he wrote as a boy is about his first dog; Sandy, a black cocker spaniel. I would like to share it with you.
June the 15th on a Sunday morn our little puppy he was born. Born to the mother, there were 9 and everyone just looked fine. Of the 9 one was dandy andwe called him little Sandy. He was black with ears so long, and he was always getting in wrong. He’d grab a sock and away he’d run, but in his mind it was only fun. Robert Robertson