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 ...

 

(© Kathy Pippig Harris, 2007)

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I would like to thank Kathy Pippig Harris for her kind permission to publish her poems and writings on my blog.