In the twilight hum of a tramline’s song,
A lone dog rides.
He boards the ferry, eyes on the sea.
Passengers smile as he claims a seat,
A prince of the city with padded feet.
No leash, no master, yet he belongs—
To cobbled roads and seagulls\' songs.
Four run wild through backstreet air,
Chasing wind, without a care.
Tails like kites, free and high,
Tongues like sails beneath the sky.
Between the tea stalls, near old stone walls,
They play through markets and prayer calls,
Unbound joy, a flowing art—
A pack stitched tight by beating heart.
At night, the streets spill tales and wine,
And drunk hearts stagger down the line.
A bark breaks soft—their faithful feet
Join whispers in each quiet street.
No judgment falls, no questions pry,
Just gentle warmth, a soothing sigh.
They share their love, their hurt, their fears,
While dogs absorb their whispered tears.
Then home they walk, these guardians near,
Silent angels ever here,
Guiding souls to doorsteps bright,
Through Istanbul’s soft, watchful night.