The Unforgotten

Joyce Stranger

There they stay, in our memories forever,
Our four-footed ghosts.
So briefly, so shortly, we were their hosts.
They were our treasures,
the source of our pleasures.
With gay waving tails, and glowing brown eyes.
They are our past, memories that last.
The dog in the ring, the dog that was king.
The sweet natured bitch, that made us so rich.
Time passes and heals, but memory steals.
And the dog at our side, in which we feel pride,
Noses our knee, saying "What about me?"
Knowing for a moment we'd paused and we'd sighed.
Still regretting, still loving,
The dogs that have died.
 

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