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Little Shadow

Every day, as we drive past the quiet streets,
I scan the pavements, the hollow kerbs,
hoping to glimpse a flicker of fur,
a little shadow waiting by the roadside.
My head knows I won’t find you there,
but my heart still holds on to hope.

Every evening, stepping from the bus,
I turn my gaze to the ginnel’s glow,
orange streetlights casting ghosts on the stones,
hoping to see a little shadow bounding from the dark.
My head knows I won’t find you there,
but my heart still holds on to hope.

Before I cross the empty road,

Of The Blue

Reserves of steely strength, men, women in pride earn the badge, how can us civilians fully know what you go through, what you're summoned to, as you try to bring peace to America's chaotic streets, as you rise for another day, when, at any moment your adrenaline could ignite through your body like fire, your families wait for you ~ to cross the threshold again, your hearts not faint, but still hurt just the same as ours do, so many of you ~ valiant, and of the blue. This poem has been given to the Texas Fallen Officers Foundation, and will be published in some of their foundation printed mat
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