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L B Sep 2012
"Hopeful"

the bars of the cage are cold on his nose
his large brown eyes, expressive with soul
sadly watching people come and go
some of them pause to look at him
and others just shake their heads, and move on
his brindle coat is speckled, and looks at bit rough
not smooth, like some other dogs' coats
his markings look muddy under the lights
but still, he stands hopeful, one ear up, and one down
just like the hope, in his big loving heart
his tail, a happy flag that wags at each passerby,
and then, stills... as they walk away
till a little girl sees him, and suddenly, she stops
her bright eyes meet his brown ones, on her face, a big smile
and she calls to her family ... "over here - this one, Daddy!"
oh, the sweetest sounds ever heard in this world
is the opening, of a cage door...
and a fuzzy, warm little dog cuddles and wiggles
estatically held in the arms, of a big hearted child
and, that hopeful little dog finally has found... his forever home

by LB
Tegan Aug 2018
Not quite the green rolling hills
i’d devour only a few years ago
i’m stuck depending on the
dreary dark alleys, buldings with dessimated feelings,
girls who prance so estatically through
cement pavements and tarmac streets.

How do I feel knowing brick tastes sweet,
smog feels soft, and constant movement relaxes me?
They flourished and thrived,
grew up so different, so industrialised.
A completely different vocabularly that has been bastardised.
Not just trees and meadows
not just red juggarnauts and underground rumbles.

I need to find the sea
just for a moment to wash this off me.
oh wot a change

— The End —