05 May 2017 – Hymn to a Lady
(for the Lady Becca)
My Lady found me in the closeout bin.
A little road warn; soiled; a little rank.
She saw my stuffings through sad, threadbare skin.
She never mentions now the way I stank –
but I can tell you that I stank like sin!
A full description we can skip for now.
My value unenhanced by where I’d been:
a third-class booking on a garbage scow.
She scooped me up and took me home with her.
She patched a couple spots, and then I soaked.
She brushed the gobbets out and fluffed my fur:
more near to Snow White now than stogie smoke.
I wasn’t worth a damn! This rag she bought
cleaned up real nice – at least that’s what she said.
You think I’m joking, but I swear I’m not.
I know how close I was to being dead.