The late shift ends the streetlights cast their glare

The late shift ends, the streetlights cast their glare,

and then a shadow, trotting at my heel.

A scruffy mix, just suddenly right there,

not mine, no collar, nothing to reveal

where he belonged. He made no sound at all,

just matched my stride, a quiet, furry ghost.

Through three long blocks, I heard the silent call

of something lost, of being almost host

to someone else's burden, small and warm.

Then four blocks in, he stopped, just sat and watched

as I kept walking, safe from any storm.

He didn't bark, just watched the path I'd notched.