Saturday, November 28, 2015


                    To watch poor Lily die and be released
                    From all her chronic, painful maladies,
                    Which had from month to weary month increased,
                    Brought her and those who loved her final peace.

                   We saw how her last breath gently transpired
                   As she fell to the deepest sleep of all,
                   What we for ourselves hopefully desired
                   When captor Death arrests us as his thrall.

                   Yet now in all our lives a vacancy
                   Resounds with memories of growls and barks
                   No longer to be heard with empathy
                   By someone who to such beseeching harks,

                       Whose house is not the home it was before
                       When Lily was its Westie to adore.