DOG OF THE DEMON

The demon finished his meal
tapped his stomach and whistled
With sharpened claws of steal
with fur as black as the dying night
stomped a dog , as the master beckoned

he stared at the remains of the fight
four men, too cooked and two skinned
two had been seasoned ,two had been eaten
he looked at the soft flesh, licked his lips wagged his tail
and as fast as the rising gale, he pounced on the cooked flesh

less sweetened, he chomped hungrily, looked at the demon
The meal done, he settled next to his master
lapping on a bowl of water, with a hint of lemon

Dog and Demon gazed dreamily satisfied
Ah! Life was food when men were not fried
The sun rose , drunk on the horizon
A boulder and a pebble, strolled on.