The Greyhound

His sporting days are over.

He shone at every meet.

Gliding like the angels,

On graceful ballet feet.

 

For his reward he needs a place,

To rest among the human race.

With dignity he turns to you,

His gentle heart seeking a hug or two;

Creature comforts to ease his day,

Some loving time to romp and play,

A pat on the head to say "well done."

 

And the prize he seeks,

You'll both have won.

 

(Betty Lawrence, 1996)