There she lay, all torn and battered, 

And lost in the woods

Sweeping the floor in agony and anguish.  

The air carried the waft, 

That was known to her and

That made her weary eyes open. 

She sensed the presence, 

Of her companion, 

As his smell piqued her olfactory nerves. 

She dragged herself towards the smell

And let a squeal of joy, 

As her eyes met his. 

Faithful companion that she was, 

Saved her master despite being hurt. 

The dear one’s perfume, aided her for that.

Photo by Eric Ward on Unsplash