Hopeless But Hopeful

Like how everyone can't become yours, 

And one could become your everything, 

Life has been limited.

So is the Blacky in my story? 

Found under the car,

One among the four.

Fostering a stray dog is strange-

My Mom's scold could range.

Little did they were grown,

But many I saw the color black-brown.

Petting their Mom,

To allow to touch them.

I know she was a bitch,

My Mom wanted me to ditch;

The ideas of growing them,

 The funs of raising them.

Soon losing the other 2 Puppies,

I was left with one.

The climate was cold out

As My Mom's heart.

Escaping with a glass of milk,

I would fetch to not get him sick.

Named it blacky,

Cause its skin was soft-silky!

Not sounding a racist, 

But Blacky looked-up only for it.

Becoming street's favorite dear,

Taken aback with every Vehicle's roar.

Days were going-by,

Blacky was growing not-sly.

Habits too decent,

Crying for food when refused has no end. 

He makes you feel a child to be embraced,

His place of resting must be traced.

He wags his tail when he loves.

And I love him most when he wags.

Many the requests to have him trained as a guarding dog,

My heart stops each time praying to God.

Knowing I can't raise him all alone,

Letting Blacky be gone.

For the goodness of Blacky and others,

Burying My Love and yearnings for sure.

After days Here I stand today at the gate,

Looking at the endless cloudburst,

Thinking,

If at all one day,

If Blacky could come this way,

Will, he still remember me,

 Or at least see him wag his tail at me?

No Possibilities too.

I am hopeless, 

But hopeful.