The little boy and the Pup
I and my son went to the apothecary
To fetch some first aid for my son’s wounded leg.
And lo! What do I see in front of me?
A shivering little black pup with shaking legs,
Cowering to hide away from man’s teasing eyes.
Inquiring I was for bandages, ointments and tapes
To dress my son’s wounded leg.
My heart was deserting me again and again,
To see the frightened little pup, standing on wobbly feet
Hastily I took the needful, to retreat from the vision of distress
When, I felt a little hand tugging my duppatta,
I stopped in my tracks and looked back, in my son’s eyes,
Filled to the brim, lips quivering, in shaky voice
Asked he, solemnly, don’t you have any empathy?
Aghast was I with my son’s question,
Then and there I made a deal with the fat shopkeeper.
Home come’s the little black pup gaily in my son’s lap,
Contentment was written large on innocent faces
Sorrow, insecurity and pain moving away at last.
For ASL, weekly poetry Contest