The Winter Sonnets Of Ebenezer Scrooge (Sonnet 33) Poem by Troy Cochran

The hour was late, in a snow-pestered fog,
And feet pressed home to put their kettle on;
A hungry stray, more matted hair than dog,
Bethought itself to follow me along.
But I'd seen its kind before, and easily ignored
The plaintive look, that not just hooked... but gored!

Had I one morsel more, I might have spared
Myself the plaintive look and left it there;
But with nothing in my hand or heart to share,
I left the mangy mutt to sit and stare,
While I walked on, and dared not glance again
Lest every mutt come beg me let them in.

That night I skipped my meal and curled in bed:
To learn the feel of one I gave no bread.