From the corner store he just came

From the corner store, he just came,

a scruffy patch of brown and white.

His worn collar held no name,

just walked beside me in the fading light.

He nudged my hand with a wet nose,

looked up with eyes too big, too keen.

I tried to shoo him, Lord knows,

but he stayed, a shadow on the scene.

I unlocked my door, he sat right there,

watching, hopeful, a quiet plea.

Not mine to keep, not mine to share,

but he wouldn't turn his back on me.

I left a bowl of water on the step.

He watched me close the door. I wept.