My hand reaches and comes to rest on the noble head;
The beloved dog always sits at my side, so lovingly bred.
In the solitude of my old age, he lends simple presence;
And from a deep well of his being, an abiding quiescence.
Any unexpected departure would leave a gaping wound;
I have come to depend on his friendship, we are attuned.
Who can account for the unique relation of man and dog,
That shows a sublime intimacy that recalls man and God.
As I look back on my life, much of it I have simply forgotten;
Much water gone under the bridge, but never misbegotten.
When I first laid my sight on the dog’s watery puppy eyes,
I beheld a future friend I could never in this world despise.
What did he know of my foibles, quirks, and eccentricities?
What did he care about my lax and forgetful propensities?
He is always there only for me and I am always truly his;
We live and breathe as one, no matter what anybody says.
Between man and dog an otherworldly magnetism did exist,
This deep-seeded trust neither of them could possibly resist.
If this dog were to be a tree, he would be an oak, or a pine,
The oak for his durability, the sweet scent of pine only mine.
Old age has its many trials, but it also has compensations,
A devotedness so deep that it need not make declarations.
To enjoy a profound sense of solitude without being alone;
He is my North Star while I am slim pickings, a brittle bone.
With good reason, we refer to a dog as man’s best friend;
He is forever faithful to his master, from now until the end.
I APPRECIATE THIS WORK IN ITS ENTIRETY...IT'S A KEEPER. THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING THE SPIRIT OF INSPIRATION TO USE YOU SO PERFECTLY. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
I read your poem with bated breath, hoping the beloved dog lived until the end. I fall apart when animals die in literature or movies. My Maltese wouldn't be a pine or an oak, he would be a palm tree with his floppy ears and dancing in the wind.
This was dog gone touching. Even my dog licked it. In all seriousness, as Jerry said, this was beautiful. As I read this, I was reminded of a poem Jimmy Stewart wrote about his dog Beau. He read it on the Johnny Carson show. If you have not seen it, there are videos of it on the internet. It is probably the most touching poem I've ever heard, and I have a copy of the poem in my collection.
Ahhh . . . John, this is just simply beautiful. I've had dogs since my early days of childhood, and each and every one of them loved me completely and only me. I turn seventy-nine next month and I still have a dog to help me through my advancing age. Her name is Zoe and she is now curled upon this end of this end of the sofa doing what she does best . . . Loving me.
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Love ya!
Jane