A Stray's Prayer
I hope I'm not asking too much, Lord. All I want is a home of my own,
and to know when my next meal is coming instead of the scraps
I get thrown.
I've been out in the cold for so long now, coping as best as I can,
but it's not so long I've forgotten the touch of a soft caring hand.
I look in the windows at Christmas, as cats doze by the fire, quite replete -
How I'd welcome a box in the kitchen and tasty food for me
to eat.
For me there was tinsel and giftwrap, but the fun didn't last very long -
they put me out with the rubbish; I don't know what I did
wrong.
I really don't want to be greedy; at the moment I'm all skin and bone,
so would it be too much to hope for, that someone will give me a home?
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