Mrs. Clover’s Puppy

She was leaving,
Which turned into a greeting,
Her youngest son was at the door,
Her youngest son was twenty-four.
And with his devilish grin
He was let in,
Accompanied by his newest friend,
A puppy of breed undetermined.
He told her it was hers as of now,
Then he went to get the puppy chow,
Leaving her with a puppy and a destination.
But on his reappearance,
He began a lengthy explanation,
On the care and feeding of her new friend.

“What’s his name?” she politely asked him,
just then she heard the ringing of the phone.
“His name is Rover” shouting after her,
Mrs. Clover could not help but to groan.

“You’re late,” the phone said flatly,
and she took a breath and gave a sigh,
“I don’t think you taking this seriously”
Her son left quickly with a wave goodbye.
“If you were you be here on time.”
The puppy Rover romped around
As she became tangled in the line;
Just then came a crashing sound,
And there they gather in a pile,
Rover, rug and the vase from the TV.
The phone kept talking all the while
Reminding here she had places to be.
With out another word,
She placed the receiver down.
From him on the phone she heard,
Was never another sound.

The puppy was another matter.