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Diary of a Street Dog

They call with a whistle “A friend” I smile Only to deform at sight of the "duka" They whistle instead of my name Or they think I don’t have one So I look back but it wasn’t me they wanted They whistle, seeking my attention My stomach rumbles for the bone in their hand Last time I swung my tail for it I got a duka in the face I won’t fall for it, I know the trick Won’t he stoop for the duka again? I have to eat, I will take the risk If I get hit, I will heal again.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things