The Sheepskin Gloves
Sleek and thin. Glossy and tan.
But once you were white and wooly and warm.
On long black legs, full of life, you ran.
Young and spry, your chocolaty eyes so full of devotion,
Across the meadows and into the valley deep.
A playful bleat for every emotion.
But then you grew old.
You were no longer a lamb; no longer did you dance and jump.
And so came the day you were sold.
The day came for you to die.
Now you’re just a pair of sheepskin gloves.
I never even got to say goodbye.
Please note: I am in no way an animals right’s activist, but I thought up this poem one day and decided I would share it. Please understand that all animals have a purpose in life, whether that purpose is to be a pet for you or your child or…
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