The small dog had a special ball

She loved with all her heart,

She groomed it, chased it, cared for it

As though they’d never part.

*

 But one sad day it disappeared

Into the distant field,

A thorough search through grass and thorn

No trace of it would yield.

She has a lot of tennis balls

So, conscious of her plight,

I’ve thrown each one a hundred times

But none of them are right.

*

She looks up all expectantly

Then ducks, or lets it fall,

Somehow she knows that what I throw

Is not her special ball.

She just looks lost and awful sad,

And turns away instead.

I’ve tried with balls both old and new

She just retreats to bed.

*

She will not chase, she will not play,

She will not seek or fetch…

For days she’s looked all sad and hurt

And made me feel…