DS ( / Churchfield Lane, Nottingham)

My Cat

He was a poor thin stray,
When his owners went away,
He had been shot in the head,
With pellets of lead.
His eyes were bleeding and sore,
When he first came to my door,
Now he is silky and fat,
I could never give him back.

by Dorothy Snow

Other poems of DOROTHY SNOW (2)

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