MISSING OUR DOGS
Old Men miss many dogs.
They only live a dozen years,if that,
And by the time you are sixty, there are several
The names of which evoke remembering smiles.
You see them in your mind,heads cocked and seated.
You see them by your bed, or in the rain,
Or sleeping by the fire by nights
And always dying.
They are remembered like departed children
Though they gave vastly more than ever they took,
And finally you're seeing dogs that look like them.
They pass you in the street but never turn
Although it seems they should,their faces so familiar.
Old men miss many dogs.