Never a mother


She was a rescued dog a tiny mite
lost in the wilderness of man and left to die.
A shivering whelp, it was a cold day
held her under my coat the trembling stopped
she fell asleep.
At the time I was rebuilding a ruin I had no
furniture only a camp bed.
I put the puppy on some canvass the workers
used when painting, and she wouldn´t hear of it
she ended up sleeping on the pillow.
A few months later, I had her spayed since I was
not sure whether staying or going back to Norway.
Thirty years later, I´m still here.
The dog, I named her Bambi,
when an adult sometimes looked mysterious,
stole from the basket of the ***** laundry building a nest behind the sofa place by the wall.
She spent most of her time there, but after a few
days, she forgot all about it and wanted to run in the forest chasing rabbits.
I regretted robbing her of motherhood, but my intention was good,
had I left her chances of survival would have been better not having
a litter to take care of in an unfriendly world.