paved with good intentions; so
is January
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Thank You for the Days
(This poem is just a few of the memories of our little dog, 'Rosie' whom we loved very much and who left us this passed New Year. The poem is inspired by the song "Days" by The Kinks. I'm sure they won't mind!)
Thank you for the days Rosie,
those endless days,
those sacred days you gave us.
The love you gave us,
the days of joy and laughter,
and those animated welcomes we got when we returned home from work.
Thank you for the 'mad dog escapades',
you charging out into the garden,
then back into the house,
then back out into the garden again,
for no particular reason.
Thank you for those 'not quite long enough' afternoons,
sat with me on the chair, watching nothing in particular on television,
and that time Mum pulled a storage box out from under our bed,
and you were in it,
staring back up at Mum,
looking most indignant!
Thank you for those loving looks you gave us,
with those large dark eyes,
and those long Christmas walks 'round the playing fields at Tipton St John.
Thank you for being part of our lives,
and...
although you're gone,
you're with us,
every day,
believe me.
8 Hours
Driving along the dual carriageway,
home from work,
along the opposite carriageway I drove to work on,
only now it is day light,
then it was dark,
and now I am happy but tired,
then I was just sleepy and wishing it was all over,
but it hadn't even begun.
Now I am 8 hours older,
8 hours wiser.
Then I was 8 hours younger and had no clue what my day of work had in store for me.
I had no a clue what the world was going to do in those 8 hours,
what the news headlines would be,
who would live and who would die,
who's life would be changed forever,
and whose would remain the same.
That person of 8 hours earlier,
me,
then,
was I ignorant?
Would I want to know about life in 8 hours time?
Where is that person now?
As I drive home,
where is that person of 8 hours earlier?
Has he gone forever,
can I find him,
what would I say to him if I did?
Knowing what he'd become...
Me,
8 hours later.
Top of the Stairs
You knew I was home.
You heard or sensed or just knew my car had pulled up outside.
When I opened the front door you'd be there,
stood at the top of stairs,
wiggling.
Every bit of you was wiggling,
from your nose to the tip of your tail.
You knew it was time for a walk. You'd dash down the stairs and leap onto the sofa!
I'd give you a big hug,
would put on your harness and off we'd go!
I'm going to miss those afternoon welcomes Rosie dog,
Like I going to miss you.
Our beautiful flower,
our beautiful soul.
Don't make too much mischief now will you.
Sleep well my love.
Miss you.
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