Even though I have never been blessed with a four-legged friend, I felt like dedicating a word to their companionship.
In the cold, all light and grey,
The story of a man and stray.
No thing can give the warm bed
To the one left alone at birth,
Than what he gets from crumbs of bread
And a wooden, shiny hearth.
Owning just a tea shop
The Man himself is not unbound,
Family of four lovely lives
Comfort, though is not profound.
In the world all large and held,
Two lives that strangely dwelled.
Give life to each other at dawn,
And meet daily in a phantom lawn.
Thus, the bodies of godly love,
Chat under the sunshine dove.
Complement each other’s new start,
And all these talks are just in hearts.
Yet the two solitary loons
Tired of life, meet at noons.
Eat food and share with each
In a language no one can teach.
Dawn of the day soon ends,
And as dark, the moon sends
The Man begins to leave for home
His humble place, his only dome.
Funny though how he waits
In the cold that kills and shakes.
To farewell his four-legged friend
As he comes from the farther end.
Giving the crumbs the man proclaims,
“We’ll meet again” to whom he tames.
After dinner they leave again,
To end their life’s new begin.
Thus this way the two stay,
And ponder my pen as dawn’s gay.
For is it only life that lays,
The love between man and strays?
Or is it in the times of need
That men can find stray friends indeed…..