Lost and Alone
Abyss in thought with anguish
Tormenting his mind as he sits
With bitterness and great pain
Ageing without companionship
His only warmth is a warm fire
No one comprehends his ordeal
Compassion forgotten and alone
As darkness looms he wanders
No tracks or trail of blood found
A knock at door was his only hope
We found Scrappy he was digging
In Mrs. Tumble Weeds trash!
Copyright © Bobby May | Year Posted 2019
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