She moves like morning on the grass,
A streak of grace you watch go past.
The world around her seems to slow,
As if it waits for her to show.
A little frame with eyes so wide,
She walks with wonder at her side.
She greets the day, she meets the air—
Like every breeze is hers to share.
Her monkey toy, her soft delight,
She cradles close from day to night.
Not just a plaything, not pretend—
It’s more than cloth—it is her friend.
She climbs the couch with dainty pride,
As though she’s on a mountain ride.
And when she finds her spot to lie,
You feel a calm you can’t deny.
She doesn’t need to chase or bark—
She shines her light and leaves a mark.
With every step and tilted head,
She paints in joy where she has tread.
She isn’t big, but make no claim
That size can measure soul or flame.
She’s steady, kind, and unafraid—
A heart of giant, gently made.
And by her side, a man stands tall—
Blue cap, strong stride, her closest call.
He walks as though he knows full well
The stories only Blu could tell.
So if you pass her on the way,
And see her eyes turn bright and stay,
Just smile back, and let her be—
She’s not a dog, she’s poetry.