For the dogs of Manchester

Gods Kennel Maid.


There was a special kennel maid
who visited us that night,
with hair like golden sunshine
and wings of brilliant white.
At first we didn't see her
through the smoke so black,
but we knew that we must follow her
our little, faithful pack.
The big dogs, the little dogs
some with muzzles grey,
woke from sleepy slumber
they seemed to know the way.
She led us past the kennels
up to a distant door,
an exit that was new to us
we'd not been this way before.
Although we were so frightened
we formed an orderly queue,
and from a golden re homing book
she ticked as we went through.
The colours were so beautiful
on rainbow flower beds,
and then we saw a wooden bridge
as forward we were led.
Our sore, burnt paws were healed
our coats no longer smoky and black,
a rainbow appeared upon the bridge
on every wooden slat.
Then we finally saw him
the Master of us all,
we all rushed up to meet him
when we heard him call.
The small dogs sat upon his knee
the others at his sandaled feet,
welcoming him like a dear old friend
now our Journey was complete.
He said you are from Manchester
your tragic story is well known,
I'd like those to know, way down there
in my beautiful kingdom, you're now..
rehomed.
God bless xxxx

That's beautiful.

Lovely poem!

This should be (and is as far I am concerned) dedicated to each and every dog that perished on that terrible day.

Lovely.