A Poem for the Grieving
I shall not stand at my dog’s grave and weep.
He is not there, He does not sleep.
He is a thousand winds that blow,
He is the diamond glints on snow.
He is the sunlight on ripened grain,
He is the gentle autumn’s rain.
When I awaken in the morning’s hush,
He is the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
He is the stars that shine at night.
I shall not stand at my dog’s grave and cry,
He is not there, he did not die . . .
Gus you will be forever missed and
I know you will wait for me.
|26, Aug 2003|