Poem

Old Dogs Do Not Die

We have a secret, you and I,
That no one else shall know,
For who, but I can see you lie,
Each night, in fireglow?

And who but I can reach my hand
Before we go to bed,
And feel the living warmth of you
And touch your silken head?

And only I walk woodland paths,
And see, ahead of me,
Your small form racing with the wind,
So young again, and free.

And only I can see you swim
In every brook I pass.
And, when I call, no one but I
Can see the bending grass.