Waiting

[billy]

you have the potential for a decent little poem here, a few nits but the crux of the content strikes a chord. maybe a little more flesh on the bone (a couple more lines) will bring that fact out a bit more.

Father used to speak for the dog spoke for, or maybe would speak for
in a shrill, “cute” voice. it's a trait i see a lot in my own home.

Watching him converse with with feels lumpy as is the next line. i can definite visualize the image but i think the layout could be better.
himself was funny, from a
certain point of view.

As it wasn’t mine, I cringed i'm not sure [as it wasn't mine] is relevant, that you cringed is enough
when the dog demanded a walk,
a treat, or a fresh bowl of water;
conscious of a bend – waiting for the snap. i can't figure this line out.