With a spunk in her eye,
so gentle and sweet.
A black mask on her face,
but her color was wheat.
And she’d bounce and she’d play,
with the kids in the yard.
With her favorite ball,
she knew how to play hard.
A little bit sneaky,
a whole lot of sly.
She’d steal all the socks,
in the dark of the night.
Oh, how many times,
you would hit the alarm.
Then gently awake,
with a kiss on the arm.
She’s not just a dog,
though you already knew.
But a child, a sister, a friend.
Just like you.
She’d guard her bowl right,
to eat one at a time.
Poor Abby would wait,
for her turn in line.
The house it is silent,
one patter too less.
It was her time to go,
it was her time to rest.
Now you wonder what happened,
to her beautiful soul.
The answer is for,
someone else to know.
She could save the life,
of a child one day.
Help one who can’t see,
or find his own way.
Or tender the heart,
of a grumpy old man.
That didn’t learn love,
until she came to his hand.
There’s something to share,
that you might not yet know.
Feel with your heart,
every time the wind blows.
She’s in the breeze,
she learned how to fly.
Just listen for her,
when she passes by.
It really is true,
good souls never end.
She’ll be somebody’s
child, sister, or friend.
| Michelle Lang |