I first wrote this a year ago, when we thought we'd lost our dog; and now it looks likely; so, I have revised it, and I don't think I'll get a second chance.
A spade stands ready
(Bobby, Springer Spaniel)A spade now stands ready beside the shed;
such a cold January and he’s not yet dead.
He may be ill, he may have forgotten,
what a dog is trained to do, but he’s ours,
and he’s given us of his very best.
So, we shall watch and mind him in the hours,
to help him along to his long days rest;
and then, when all is remembered and said,
the spade will be ready beside the shed.
© D G Moody 2023
Poetry by D G Moody
Read 204 times
Written on 2023-01-15 at 18:57
Tags Mortality 
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