Sierra July
At first he would
scramble madly into the red (earth?)
Happy wag, head
tilt as he questioned the scents, all wrong,
He could recall
pats from screwdriver-wielding hands
Rubs from warm
cloth on his silky, metallic head
He wondered where
they went, those meticulous, caring hands
As his limbs
creaked, his brain gears sputtered – lagged –
-Kicked- -Bit-
then . . . - Halted-
Rover crouched
with a whimper, feeling abandoned
As all went black
Poet's Notes: This is a sad one about a robotic dog
built with care to become a space rover. Though the humans' intentions weren't
cruel, the dog has more of a mind, more emotions, than intended; thus, a lonely
space dog shuts down all on his own. I like to think that someday he will be
recovered, fixed up, and become a permanent resident of Earth after his job
well done.
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