DOG.

While tender forces shaped my clay
the dog of doubt remained a stray,
but once the blinkers fell away
I saw the prism in the ray
and knew the dog was set to stay.

Now, I’m wont to filter truth;
I find those verities of youth,
like fairies pay you for a tooth,

pen the prism in the ray
and keep uncertainty at bay.
I would rather brook delay
than hasten what I must betray;
the dog of doubt will have its day.