Out Walking 

As I walked Patch,
you - just off the train,
had stopped, checking your bag, 
walking to your car.

You smiled as we walked past.
We stopped to chat
you asked me his breed.

“English springer spaniel” said I.
You looked into his eyes like an old friend,
with affection gave him a pat.

As we walked, you told me of your four dogs -
three passed on. And you were going home
to see your lab.

Your eyes looked into mine, 
and said, “My wife has not long died.”
you were alone, but for your dog. 

Your dog at home was old and sick,
and you wondered 
if she would be alive when you arrived.

You asked about Patch,
I said, “an affectionate breed.”
And with that you smiled, 

crossed the road, 
worn leather case in hand
stopped by your car

said, “that’s given me hope.”
As you opened the door, 
you  glanced at me, 
took a breath and drove on.

© 2021 Craig A Roberts
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