He never came to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn’t come at all.
When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.
Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn’t drag.
He’d dig up something just to spite me,
And when I’d yell at him, he’d just turn look at me.
He did lots of naughty things from day to day,
The goats were his favorite prey :-).
On the evening walks, I took him,
He was always first out the door.
We would charge up the street with Me hanging on,
What a beautiful pair we were!
But every once in awhile, he would stop in his tracks And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that I was there, safe and sound.
He knew where the toys were in my room
And I’d give him one for awhile.
He would push it under the bed with his nose
And I’d fish it out with a smile.
And before very long
He’d tire of the ball
And be asleep under my covers
In no time at all.
And there were nights when I’d feel him
Put his head in my hands
And snuggle in next to me just caz
he was having a bad dream
And I’d pat his head and understand.
And there were nights when I’d feel this stare
And I’d wake up and he’d be sitting there
And I’d reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
And sometimes I’d feel him sigh
and I think I know the reason why.
He would wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
And he’d be glad to have me near.
And now he’s dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb up on my bed and just lie there,
And I pat his head.
And there are nights when I think
I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
But he’s not there.
…My Marley isn’t there
I keep thinking when I wake up you'll be here, and it will be the way it was...
|27, Dec 2003