“bichon frises”

In a world of velvet paws and snowy curls,  
Dances the Bichon Frise, a cloud that twirls—  
With button eyes like licorice drops on white,  
And noses soft and shiny, blinking light.  

Their coats are spun from dreams of sugared cream,  
Cottony piped in every gentle seam.  
They prance and pirouette on careful feet,  
Each hop and skip a symphony, so sweet.  

They’re courtiers of laughter, queens of play,  
Spirited bundles, chasing blues away.  
From Paris streets to sunlit garden beds,  
They warm the laps and pillows of all heads.  

A Bichon loves with joy that overflows—  
Every wiggle in their tail bestows  
Delight as pure as dawn’s first gleaming ray,  
Inviting hearts to simply dance, and stay.  

So if you meet one on your winding way,  
Pause for a smile, perhaps a round of play.  
These white-furred friends will teach you, if you please,  
Of life’s small bouncing marvels—Bichon Frises.

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