Forgiven
I am the one who feels the part
of dirty dog or mongrel cur,
for I am cool and peaceful here,
not having last week been interned.
My Missy girl is locked away;
I can’t retrieve her until morn.
She’s behind bars, abandoned there,
confused, sad, lonely, and forlorn.
At last, when I can break her out,
it’s likely that her mood is foul.
The “what for” soon to come my way;
She’ll greet me with that Husky howl.
But she will quickly let it go,
once necessary things are said.
Not being one to hold a grudge,
she'll curl up there, beside my bed.
Copyright © Jeff Kyser | Year Posted 2022
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