One bleak, cold wintry day
A woman, tall and gaunt
Hope a stranger to her eyes
Worldly goods on her head
Tied in a dirty rag,
Stopped to look at my dog
An afghan hound it was
Sleek, well fed and groomed
Frolicking on the grass.
Turning to the distant hills
Where nightly skies rained death,
A sigh escaped her lips
Her voice hoarse and ragged
As she said, “Lucky dog!”