Waiting

There he sits again, right at the door,
So he won't miss her when she comes.
Watching with those hopeful eyes,
Unmoving, undistracted. Waiting.

A crash disturbed the silence,
The noise echoing through dark streets,
And blood painting the concrete roads,
As the fragile body hit the ground.

His little paws, they stand unmoving,
His lively body sitting still,
Only his nose twitching, once in a while,
Hoping to catch the familiar scent.

The piercing wail of sirens followed,
Announcing the disaster
To the crowd that gathered at the scene,
As helpers lift her in the car.

For weeks he's been coming,
Every afternoon he sits to wait,
Hoping for her to return,
Only to be disappointed.

"Will she make it, doctor? Will she survive?"
He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders.
"Her wounds are deep, her chances low,
But we will do our best to save her."

And though, for all that time, she hasn't come,
He doesn't seem to mind,
Returning yet another day,
Watching, listening. Waiting.

So that's where he sits, that day,
When a car stops at the lonely house,
And finally he smells familiar scents,
As all his hopes come true, at last.