Down to Earth Again 

In my fantasy, I float and soar;
Always with the one I adore:
We sail aloft to a distant shore.
Interred are chests of bones, galore,
strange treasures for my fond Lenore.
Her formal kiss upon my hand 
shows gratitude for the contraband. 

When my flights of fancy return to earth
the instant contrast suggests rebirth.
When I am back with Lenore,
our world resumes as before.
Lenore waits, home alone.
First a hug, and then a bone -
not one from the pirates chest,
a beef bone which she likes best.

Of course, a dog lives not on bones alone,
Resourceful Lenore hunted on her own;
Now, this dog, like most of her canine kind,
will scrounge for anything else she can find.
Her Rival pooch food’s not enough
to keep her from that picked up stuff.
Our last reunion, though most desired
found poor Lenore quite ill and tired;
My sweet Lenore. my dainty lassie,
had gobbled gook that made her gassy. 
Such gas indignities that would shame a feline
Could never diminish this dog-love of mine.
Down to Earth remains our abiding reality.
Lenore knows not of my fantasy fallacy.