I am but a creature of man’s creation

Born out of man’s desire for loyal companionship

Yet here I sit

On the cold, wet, unforgiving ground

Alone

Away from the affection of

A warm smile

A gentle touch

A safe home

A forsaken wanderer whose ribcage bears the brand of a hungry beast

But food lost its appeal

Long ago

What remains is the bony, begging soul

Of your ragged, ravaged, long forgotten creation

Awaiting his Master in a garden of discarded desire