P . A. T. Dogs . . .
I was in prison, my soul broken,
No words to me were spoken.
Weeks, months became years,
I lay in bed often in tears.
Then one day, out of the fog,
Came a man and his dog.
My head was bent, I couldn't see,
From my face it didn't flee.
"Say Hello" said the man to his dog called 'Ben'.
It's head came forward and then
My hand lay upon it's head,
As I lay there in my bed.
A friend for me just look,
This is better than reading a book.
Then at last I found my voice,
Had I a dog, this is my choice.
Now I am free at last.
Prison is now in my past.
In bed no longer, to Ben I now talk.
One day I hope to walk.
Words to me are now spoken.
I am whole, no longer broken.
C. E. Threader