THE DOG The dog, tail low, trots along dark wet street,
Sniffs, cocks leg at each lamp post.
Nose, wet, black, nudges an empty can, making eerie noise,
Echoing down empty street.
Ears cocked, twitching, stares about,
Barks sharply, skips off chasing black and white Tom.
Stops suddenly, too late, Tom
Has leapt the gate!
He slopes off dejected, tail low, sniffing at dropped rubbish,
His form fades in the gloom;
All is silent in wetted street. By A Chattin
Bridgeman Street, Farnworth
Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.
Comments: Our rules
We want our comments to be a lively and valuable part of our community - a place where readers can debate and engage with the most important local issues. The ability to comment on our stories is a privilege, not a right, however, and that privilege may be withdrawn if it is abused or misused.
Please report any comments that break our rules.
Read the rules hereComments are closed on this article