Going Home

Ink lings

old dog

He looked at me with cautious eyes
As I walked by his cage
The white whiskers on his face
Attesting to his age

I wandered down the row of strays
Looking at them all
In hopes I’d find the perfect friend
And their homelessness forestall

There were several that I liked
Most jumping at their gate
Telling me how much they’d like
To end their current wait

But somehow I could not forget
The old guy by the door
He wasn’t cute or young or spry
There was something more

I went and took another look
While he just sat and stared
As if to say I can’t believe
That maybe someone cares

There was a sadness to his face
That stirred something inside
I knew he’d traveled rocky roads
Before being cast aside

This is the one I told them
He’s going home with me
Put a collar on…

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About oldmainer

I am retired and live in southern Maine with my wife and two dogs. I started Oldmainer .wordpress.com as an outlet for my occasional opinions and random observations, with some poetry thrown in. I welcome anyone that wants to kick back and join me here on the porch, exploring all the gifts we have been given and the memories collected. Thanks for stopping by.
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