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The Wanderer

He whimpers and whines
As he makes his way through
The concrete jungle that
Was once a great world
He could call his own

He takes one step
And then yet another
Into the plush white ground
And as he does so,
He shivers and shakes
Upon its fierce bite

No one knows him.
No one cares for him.
They understand not
How great of a king
He had once been.

But as all seems lost,
It no longer is so,
For when he looks up,
He sees that good face.
That friendly face
He had come to love

It was his friend,
Man’s very best friend.





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