Thought Wheel

Ann Chiappetta

new poem

| Filed under Guide dogs Poem


Lost Keys

By Ann Chiappetta



little metal Alloy trinkets

open tumblers

Strung together on rings, tied

To thongs or clipped to lanyards


Brass or silver toned

taste like cold blood

When clamped  between lips and teeth

While Struggling to open the door

After Marathon shopping sprees


One might surmise keys are replaceable — after all

What is a locksmith for?


hand slips into pocket

fingering objects

touching the stories

Represented in  physical sentiment’s


A pewter policeman’s hat, a  plastic starfish

A silver dog bone


If someone else found these keys, would they know? Would

They understand the life

The symbolism

The unrevealed memories


Of a charm for a   father

Or a mother, gone

and the bone

Signifying the bond and love

for a guide dog?


Just  trinkets

inserted into slots

And forever remembered with each turn

The opening of a  door

into a heart.




by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

Busy Side walks, Blocked Cross Walks

| Filed under Guide dogs writing


Another awe-inspiring day with Verona in White Plains New York. We went to the bank and got lunch and were crossing Main and Court streets. Verona began pulling me left, . I  felt a person pass me on the right and thought she veered for the person, but then she slowed down and stopped a few feet from the curb. I put out a hand and connected with a huge panel truck blocking the entire cross walk. We were stuck, or so I thought. I said forward and we trailed the truck, found the end, and waited for the traffic to clear, then went around it to the curb. When we got on the sidewalk, I praised her to the moon, not caring  a whit that we blocked the foot traffic while doing it.  Thank you, my sweet girl, for keeping us safe and being such a good dog.


I did try to find the driver so I could tell him how thoughtless blocking the cross walk was, not to mention getting caught meant a fat ticket by the city police but cops are never around when you need them, sigh.


On another note, I must have looked like a local freak, standing  next to the offending vehicle and shouting, “Where is the driver of this truck? Hello? Is anyone there?”

I was, undoubtedly, in a phase of side walk rage and also didn’t give two shits who saw me. I wanted to give that driver a piece of my mind but had to give up and return to work. Grrr. Thank goodness it’s Friday.




by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0