Before the Journey Home

I packed and hit the bar
My mind sharp on my destination for the day.

The pub’s small dog was snarling at a stranger
on the street –
sharp fangs bare.

The stranger raised his arm unconsciously –
showing a scar, faded with the years, but still visible.

The hearth of home was waiting for me –
I saw it sharp before my eyes
Then I hauled my trunk on the cart and left.
(c) 2018, MK

Sunday whirl #341 came, as usual, with interesting words to make you think and flex your poetic mind.

One reply

  1. colonialist says:

    Intriguing snippet. The pub dog has met the stranger before, methinks!

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