A face, no voice, a portrait on profile

Sadness etched on canvass

A picture of gloom captured in a frame

Colourless yet full of life

It’s a story of my heart’s pain.

My life’s sadness is a part of me

None to share it as none can be

For the soul is where my heart can be

Hera my pet cared more for me

It’s her story that I say hark, to thee.

Born with a coat of black and tan

I picked her up from a litter of five

For she ran to me from amongst the five

She was the most humble of them all I knew

Therefore I called her Hera for all to know.

She was a pup of pure pedigree

From her puppy days she was obedient to me

Knew when to play and guard me

Come night or day,

That was her instinct I sure must say.

She walked me to school when I was young

Stayed by my bedside when I was ill

Sat by my table when I worked for my grades

Never slept a wink lest I go to sleep

She was more than a pet, only a pet can be.

Years have gone by and she still stayed by

Always by my side knowing what to do

Never got in my way for my practices she knew

Always a cold nose and a wet lick for me to know

In joy and in sadness that she was there for me I know.

Then came the war that tore the city apart

Night after night our sleep was shattered

With rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat sound of gunfire

Fires burning, children screaming as night turned to day

We huddled in corners for our peace was threatened by the day.

One bright sunny evening I decided to go out with my friend

Hera was pacing up and down near me

Knowing that I would be away I looked down at her

Smiled, as she licked my hand, I petted her head

And I left her to go with my friend.

She acted very strangely for she desired me not to go

For she never acted so funnily, I sure should know

For she kept racing alongside the car a few blocks from home

And then I turned and watched her in the rear view mirror

That was the last time I saw her move, my humble Hera.

When I headed back home at three in the morning

The lights were up and people mourning

What the dickens I thought as I kept wandering

And there she lay on her side

Death staring in her eye.

A pale of gloom had settled in the house

For Hera had died, not a natural death

But from a snipers bullet, doing what she did best

Hera the humble pet, the guard dog and family

Was lost from us to a snipers bullet.