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an old gray bearded dog
and a young blue eyed smile...
side by side through the ages



things were far simpler then
when every day was ruled
by 100 degree sunshine
that warmed instead of burned
and a dozen or so fish
playing tag with a faded bobber

there were two bikes back in those days
a 10 speed grown up advancement
and the banana seat chopper
with purple and yellow flames
that always seemed cooler (and faster)
when nobody else was watching

that beat up chopper, of course,
was the braver of the two
willing to fly for several miles
off the end of a 2 x 12 ramp
before making emergency landings
in the shallows of a 5 acre lake

that old gray beard would dance on the shore
yapping and smiling and bouncing
just waiting to reward a job well done
with a million warm licks to the face
while that bright blue eyed smile
scolded with childish affection


damn blue eyed smile grew up
and traded his bike(s) in for a car
that had people to see and impress
way far away from a smelly old dog
but every time it came home to that drive
old gray beard was there, waiting

and in 100 degree sunshine
that burned instead of warmed
that old gray beard, tongue lolling
lay beside the dimming blue eyes
as ratchets and clanks and curses
came from under that stupid old beast


shoulda realized back then
that the gray beard deserved my devotion
much more than the coyish giggles
often coming from a brown bucket seat

that old gray beard waited a lifetime
18 and a half years of loving adoration
even through the days of loneliness
when another fickle smile stole the show
'til that final day, weeping...
I had to betray his trust
and usher him into that last dream

and it killed me

for deep inside that moment
a 24 year old teen became a man
because the child, with that dog, passed away




and I wish that I didn't know now
all the things I didn't know then
because those were the days of vision
when hope could be restored
with a few simple words, whispered
to a God, or a dog, to a friend

and although I still find myself whispering
all I hear in return are whispers
lonely breezes after sunset
with neither of warming or burning

and I wonder if that's how he felt,
that old gray bearded companion...

it's almost as if my owner went driving
to chase after some other whim
while I sit here patiently waiting
for one more pat on the head
and I wonder if he wondered like I wonder
if it's something I did...

wrong



and I often find myself wishing
that He'd come back at least one more time
if for nothing else than to reward younger days of devotion
with just a moment to sit in His lap
before being ushered into my final nap



sure hope I get the chance to run
with a gray bearded puppy in the sun
but I don't even care
if it's summer or winter
in the days beyond my tears
my years



I'm just tired