Along the Sidewalk

Her eyes shone in the sunlight.
Pulling me closer inch by inch,
As if she had magnetic power.
As if she was positive, and I, negative.
Drawn by a force, some sort of connection.

“Mother can we keep her?”
“No, we cannot.”
“But mother…”

She sat there in the rain, and in the sun.
Whether it was freezing cold, or scorching hot.
Sitting in that lonely dilapidated box,
She gazed at the sky with a shimmer of hope.

“She would be a good girl Mama!”
“Honey, we’re not going to take her in.”
“But Mother…”

I’d feed her, I’d wash her.
I’d walk her, I’d love her.
I’d train her with all my heart,
She’d be a part of our family.

“Mother please! I promise I’ll love her.”
“For the last time, no.”
“Why Mama, why? Why can’t we keep her?”
“Because it takes tons of work, honey.”

She watched us from below,
Wondering what we were conversing about.
Maybe, just maybe,
She could leave this cardboard box for good.

“But Mother! Please, I’ll do all the work.”
“You don't know what it takes, no.”
“Mama I’m begging you!”
“No means no.”

I was dragged past the tattered box,
Tears streamed down my face.
I turned my head back to the sidewalk,
In the box, she gazed back at me,
With sad, teary eyes.

Her eyes shone in the sun,
But I was too far to see.
If she had a magnetic power,
I was too far to feel it.
Our magnetic force was detached, by a mother’s hand.