Two Old Friends (TBT)

“Heya Jasper” comes the soft, harsh voice.

Jasper barks in response.

Jasper’s fur moves with the old mans hand.

Brown patchy skin on a man with a five day beard.

He sits on the ground

in his 5 layers of clothes.

The ceiling, brightly lit.

A clear night, he smells of relief.

The man lies down, holding his friend.

Drifting away, he shuts his eyes.

The dog is awake, the mans protector.

He keeps gaurd, watching.

Little does the little dog know,

The man will not Wake

(I decided to repost this considering all the talk that’s going on here in Ireland over the homeless after a homeless man died in Dublin. It’s a poem I wrote a while back)


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