A Stray

My life just appeared one day
out of nowhere. I fed it out of kindness.
It stuck around, so now it’s mine,
I suppose. But one’s never really sure.
It might actually belong to someone else.
I might have stolen it, unawares.
I think I’ll always wonder and worry it.
It can’t give me any answers about that.
It stares dumbly at me as a mirror when I ask.
I have the weirdest feeling someone might show up
one day, and then I’ll have to give it back.
But I know it will only be fair. Only right.
Someone might have been waiting all this time
for it to return, broken with the loss. So
now I have this sense of expectation
of that day, that hour. I even try to keep
a little smile ready for that moment
of delayed justice.