Chains Were Her Prison
I was just a girl, and I had always
been told
not to go near the Collie who was tied
to a pole
she lived two houses down, this
"forgotten" dog
out in the heat, the rain, and the
cold, cold fog
I passed her each day when I'd walk to
school
and she was always alone, so I broke
that rule
like the Lassie on TV, she was
beautiful to me
but as I drew nearer, her fear was
easy to see
So I held out my hand, allowing her to
catch my scent
there was pain in her face, hurting me
was not her intent
but when I reached her, uncertainty
flashed in her eyes and she bit
As pain blossomed in my palm, my knees
buckled and I had to sit
From up against the garage wall I
shakily slid to the dirt
cradling my hand I shook my head,
crying freely at the hurt
not from her bite to my palm, but the
pain that etched her face
when I had looked up at her and she
slowly met my gaze
Her expression said, I'm sorry!
Perhaps in a another time and place
We might have been
friends, or even
family... and seen love in each others face
I can only dream
of the prospects a
different life may have yielded?
Like running
side-by-side, on a
summer's eve, in a lush green-carpeted field
But, none of those things were meant
for her
She was a prisoner there, that was
plain to see
A chain 'round her neck, and dust in
her once pretty fur
So I turned and ran home, all the
while wishing
that I could have set the "forgotten"
girl free...
Copyright 2007 Kathy Pippig Harris
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