By J.Lynne Moore
Hear the dogs bark and call,
They ran away, jumped the wall.
Wandering far, far, from home,
Knowing not, to where they roam.
A pack of brothers standing tall,
Never to be locked within the pawl.
They spend their nights among the brome;
Long days napping upon the loam.
Bay at the moon, brothers all…
Hounds of midnight, full of gaul.
Vicious fangs, mouths a foam,
Running wild and free in the gloam.
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