Long-eared beagle of modern lore,
Above mere mortals you do soar.
Your eyes are bright and true.
Your panting tongue and smiling face,
Your tiny paws in warm embrace,
Each day our love renew.
Gentle romance, but not hardcore,
Leave me begging, wanting more.
In truth you make me blush
Stopping just short of ripping lace,
With sweaty palms, my heart does race.
Bright red my face does flush.
Coveted eights with ease you score.
Share your secret, I do implore.
With envy I am green.
The trophies line your mantle place.
I hang my head, abject disgrace.
Awed by your regal mien.
I try as I have tried before.
To emulate what I adore.
In your shadow I reside
Your comments they do not lambaste,
Yet myself I still do debase.
As my feelings I confide.