The Stray Dog
Dinajpur, West Bengal
When the cool breeze begins to blow,The stray dog halts along the way.Beneath the trees, it crouches low,To rest before the end of day.Its weary eyes survey the ground,In search of scraps to ease its strife.But hunger’s ache, so deep, profound,Still clings to its unsteady life.Exhaustion bends its trembling knees,Its tears reflect a tale untold.The world walks past, it pleads for ease,As weakness makes its steps grow cold.Some toss it bread, some scraps unclean,Yet hunger lingers, never fed.It walks the paths, each cruel, unseen,In search of hope, with heavy tread.Its chest burns dry, its thirst takes hold,A fire churns within its core.Its lips, parched thin, grow cracked and cold,It licks them dry, and hopes for more.