lost growl

told for a moment

to go home,

time stretches out,

the dog wanders and can

only find a way to keep

going, turn after turn, slowly

finding the way. He watches

each person warily, and can get

by just fine as often as he needs to,

and gets lost

but can be back

Where he should

under the moon,

there are never enough

lights and not enough

roads that go straight to where

the smell is familiar,

the trail is known,

each turn is more correct on

the one and only place where

the door will always open

and when it does

the arms will embrace

About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
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