Ending Up for Marisol and Bowser No collars and no ties Nothing binding us No dollars but no lies Nothing blinding us So never mind the fuss A sensitive snout Or two out and about As three of no doubt Of one sensitive mind Two old dogs and I Amid a midnight sky Follow our noses To desert primroses Whenever we find Them opening their eyes Out at this late hour With fate reminding us We two old dogs and One old man understand Us three of a kind Transcending like we do Soon the sun will rise Through a lot but not through Not yet anyway Ending up at our Hi-Desert hideaway Steven Curtis Lance