Stray Dogs

I slip down as I try to stand up.
The murky slime of memory
Dragging me down with slick hands,
Wings non-existent, refusing to lift me up,
Arms absent, abandoning me to loneliness.
The stray dog lying in the gutter howls,
In pain and passion, a fire burning it.
A rain of tears falls, dark clouds covering the moon,
Smoke from fires extinguished chokes,
As embers of hope vainly grope
Smothered in smoke by memories drained.
Crawling we reach out to each other,
The stray dog and me, a solo duet.
His sniff tells him I stink, as does he,
Having bathed in the same sewer of memory.
Mirrors to each other, we live in images,
Far from reality, reflecting our fondest falsehood.
Morsel trails satisfying our mortal appetite
Led by bread crumbs, we walk alone
Where once was home.
We crawl on our knees begging
To be forgiven for having run astray.
The bonds of blood we thought were bondage,
Are now broken and we are stray.
Hand in hand, leg in leg, we walk,
Alone and unknown, our shadows merge,
For we are one, as all stray dogs are.