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(sorry I don't know who the author is but it's an awsome poem)
There is a new dog lying on the parlour rug
where the old dog used to lie,
A dog with a short, white, curly coat
and a brown patch over his eye.
He takes his meals from the old dog's dish
and sleeps in the old dog's chair,
and the rest have forgotten the spaniel dog
who for 10 long years slept there.
But at night when 'the house is fast asleep',
Sounds a step I used to know,
and the dog that I love comes stealing back
from the land where the good dogs go.
A dark shape opens the bedroom door,
I hear a familiar whine,
There are two brown paws on the counterplane,
and a dogs head close to mine.
There isn't a secret he 'keeps from me'
of life in the great beyond;
there are shining seraphs to take him for walks,
real bones and a splendid pond.
And baby angels throw balls for him
in the fields where the grass grows sweet,
but he hasn't forgotten the strange brown stone
that he used to lay at my feet.
He remembers the days 'in the grassy parks'
and the cats he used to chase,
(and yet there is talk of another dog
who will take the old dog's place.)
He tells me he looked for the old green chair
where his basket used to be,
But he found an intruder sleeping there
so he came to look for me.
Oh, the new dog is a faithful chap,
and he earns his saily bread,
and the right to feed from the self same dish
and sleep in the self same bed.
And of course he must be on the parlour rug
where the old dog used to lie,
but a brown dog visits me every night,
pathetically asking why.
 Sweet Smartcat · Thu Jul 09, 2009 @ 12:38pm · 0 Comments |
