Leading Lights

When you’re sight impaired like me,
Light and dark are hard to see.


But in this world, a guiding spark—
A leading light to cut the dark.

They come in many shapes and size,
Golden coats, or deep brown eyes.


A shepherd’s grace, a Labrador’s might,
A guide dog glowing, strong and bright.

To me, they are my eyes, my ears,
A bridge beyond my deepest fears.


But to the world? A pet, a game,
A cruel excuse to cast their shame.

Yet they are freedom, step by step,
A steady path where doubts have crept.


Not a status, not for show,
A guiding light to help me go.

But time moves on, the years slip by,
And every guide dog must say goodbye.


Retirement looms, their spark grows dim,
The harness slips, no longer him.

Yet fear not, for others rise,
New lights train beneath the skies.


And though my friend no longer leads,
He stays at home, he’s free, at ease.

One day, the hardest part will come,
His light will fade, his life is done.


But in my heart, his glow remains,
And soon, another takes the reins.

For leading lights don’t truly die—
They shine beyond, they light the sky.