Am I Dead?

Am I dead?

I can hear the birds chirp,

I don’t think I’m dead,

I can smell the flowers,

And the nuzzle of the butterfly on my nose.

But, I think I’m dead,

I can’t see the lady with headphones running who pats me,

Or the old uncle with the newspaper I want to tear,

Nor do I see kids playing with a stick and ball,

I love fetching the ball,

So, I must be really dead.

I can’t listen the horn to bark,

Or that thing that moves to chase,

I must be really dead.

Woof the fuzzy ball!

This is a-bark-solutely insane!

If I wasn’t dead already,

The silence was pawfectly in vain.

FLY, I SAY