A friend in the backyard
 He lay under the rainy teared tree in my backyard 
 his eyes smudged. 
 He had been crying,
 I guess. I could never tell. 
 
 Pretty eyes like his are always filled with a sadness
 that is distant and unending-
 like the sea. Why was he sad?
 I could not fathom why.
 
 He didn't speak much, never had much to say.
 But I had much to tell him.
 Much to ask. 
 But how do I?
 
 "I could write to him. But he couldn't read!"
 What would I call him?
 What was his name?
 
 I knew nothing about him
 this stranger in my backyard.
 Only this -- 
 the world had chased him away 
 and here he'd come.
 Had he ended up chasing himself?
 
 If he was lonely, I could be his friend.
 Oh, I wanted to be his best friend.
 I wanted to go hug him.
 He would love me back.
 Would he not?
 
 I ran down to him
 I knelt down before him
 I put my hand on his pulsating heart
 He awoke with a stir
 Stood on all fours
 and said --  "Woof!"

    --x x--