thank you for replies. I'm not really feeling sorry about what happened to me but, rather, looking for understanding that my feelings were generated from a love for the soul and not a need for the physical. A day or two after I wrote the poem to myself a stray dog showed at my door giving me another verse.
I saw a Dog, in the dark and cold
no longer a puppy, her look, her age, told.
I opened the door to the warm inside.
And offered her comfort, a place to hide.
I knew in her soul a family was living,
A rest from the cold was all I was giving
She and the ones I knew surely exist.
Would find the one lost that they sadly now missed.
I shared little food, gave her drink in a bowl
I wondered how right it is dogs have a soul
Though she was the lost, I think what I found
is it strengthens my heart having good souls around
She followed her nose thru every room in the place
Approved her new digs with a smile on her face.
She settled in nicely, to herself was my home.
Her sweetness showed, in life, she had not been alone.
We Sheltered from the cold and dark.
I would talk but she not bark.
She was free from danger, I provided that much
But me, as a stranger, didn't quite have the touch.
She would look to the window seeming to say
She was hoping for someone to be coming her way.
She was hoping, as dogs do, there'd be a swing of the door
To be greeted by one she was now longing for.
There she was, lost, when she went on the wing.
But, this tale, in the end, is a beautiful thing.
As she followed her friend with tail wagging true.
I could only be happy, what I could, I did, too.