LOW LIGHT

The old man went down slowly
On to his knees.
He was already dead, I think.
His dog kept walking,
Trailing lead.
He had on one of those plastic collars,
Stop him eating himself.
The old man rolled over to his left,
Head landing on the concrete.
I couldn't hear the sound it made,
From up on the rooftop.
In a moment passers-by began to realise
And they converged on the still form.
The dog reached the corner and turned round.
I heard sirens closing. I started shooting.
Soon a crowd surrounded the man.
The little dog scurried up,
But he couldn't get through the ring of people,
So he trotted over to the railings.
The ambulance arrived and took the man away.
A couple of people hung around,
But nobody seemed to notice the dog
Squatting forlorn under the streetlamp.

I took a couple of shots of him.