The dogs look dead
But they’re not.
Beware where you tread
For they’re asleep
Dreaming so deep –
Curled up on a sandy mound
Or lying on some sunny ground.
They’re not wild
But not pets
They’re just surviving
As dogs. Unloved.
They try to keep warm,
Assuming a dead form.
They didn’t ask to be here
So show them some care.
Don’t give them a kick
Or prod with a stick.
Don’t throw a stone
But leave them alone.
Don’t make a sound
Don’t hang around
Let sleeping dogs lie
And quickly pass by –
Else you’ll be the one to die.
C.Tim Taylor 2019