The World Will Move On

The lashing rain beat down on them
The three puppies huddled and moaned
There was no warmth worth its name
The clouds thundered as they lay disowned!
Death stared stark and cold on their face
Insignificant little ones in the life’s race
The world will move on without these three
Only with them will die a part of me!

poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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