The Greyhound
He shone at every meet. Gliding like the angels, On graceful ballet feet.
For
his reward he needs a place, To rest among the human race. With dignity he turns to you, His gentle heart seeking
a hug or two; Creature comforts to ease his day, Some loving time to romp and play, A pat on the head to say "well
done."
And the prize he seeks, You'll both have won.
Copyright, 1996, Betty Lawrence
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