An abandoned mutt
sits under a flickering streetlight
in the blowing snow
of January.
His white fur
blends effortlessly
with the blizzard.
The glow
of his sad eyes
the only beacon
to alert his presence.
Like a lighthouse,
he sweeps his head
from left to right
as if calling
to the ocean
to return a lost lover.
Except the ships are cars
which pass by him
as ruthlessly as the waves
mocking the forlorn lover
as they wash nothing
on the beach.
I call to him.
His eyes dart
in my direction
and for a split second
the melancholy eyes
are hopeful.
Upon seeing my face,
however,
hope fades
and he returns
to sweeping
left to right
like a lighthouse
searching
for a lost lover.