Winter Sun Poem by aditi ray

The dogs are sunning in the street,
The severe cold and then this pleasant heat.
One gets up and tail-wagging comes towards me.
I have nothing to give it.

I touch its nose and pat its head.
'I have nothing, ' I tell.
I don't own the sun, this milling-people street
Hard and warm and charcoal-grey, on which you stretch your limbs,
As if you own it.

My limbs are cold and stiff, bereft of hair under the laser's heat.