The star shone bright, up in the winter sky,
As a lonely Greyhound gave a sigh.
It was so cold out here all on his own,
With no one to love him and give him a home.
He had a home once, if you could call it that,
Lying on cold concrete that made sores on his back.
A gentle hand or kind word he never knew,
Only abuse and the words "you're through".
Then a drive in a van, that left him out here,
Alone and afraid with plenty to fear.
The Greyhound cried out, a pitiful sound,
But no one heard him; there was no one around.
As he made his journey, towards the bright star,
His legs began to weaken, he had already walked so far.
His thin body could no longer fight off the cold,
And as the temperature dropped, it started to snow.
The Greyhound lay down, and his body began to shake,
He knew it wouldn't be long now; he only had to wait,
His sad eyes looked up to the star shining so bright,
It was the last thing he saw before his eyes closed tight.
This Christmas night was sad for him, as death came near,
Another poor Greyhound that will never know Christmas cheer.
In memory of all the poor Greyhounds that never get to enjoy the Christmas spirit.
By Sue Stoddart.