This poem is a trilonnet, with this picture as the prompt. The first line has to start with ‘The Light is gone…’
The light is gone I dropped the match
In that puddle by the door
That Fido left, his parting gift.
In the dark I can’t find the latch
I’ve banged my face, my nose is sore
My shoes are soaked with canine piss.
Of course I’m mad. If I can catch
That scuzzy mutt, I’ll make quite sure
His mark again, he will not miss.
It’s not his fault? I don’t quite see?
I’m to blame? I spilt my tea?
Blame Jane Doughtery, here, for this. It’s her prompt.