A Small Mystery on Gray’s Field
She sat alone and wretched in the cold,
untagged and collarless, abandoned there.
Someone had loved her once: the signs of care
were plain, since she was pampered, plump and old.
We neighbours gathered, anxious and involved,
till one among us, as the light grew dim,
picked up the dog and brought her home with him.
Some problems, though, are not so freely solved.
The master had been elderly, I’d say,
just like his little mongrel. Even though
we all of us have troubles, this I know:
he never would have left her in that way.
As twilight, fading, turned to monochrome,
God held him safe, I trust, and brought him home.
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