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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