We’ve done it now, boy – twelve months have passed.
A few more years, that’s all I asked.

But God had other plans

The day had come for you to leave.
The time, for me, to yearn and grieve.

Your collar treasured within my hands…

Your lead is torn, and frayed from play –
Used as a toy on our walks each day.

You tugged and chewed it – you thought it fun!

The toys that squeak are silent now.
The house SO quiet – still strange somehow.

The year of change has now been done…

Your bed and blanket, now gone at last;
The final remnants of the past.

A ray of hope can now begin

What’s left is precious and beyond compare –
That silky, lustrous lock of hair

And the joyous memory that lives within…

BLESS YOU, OLIVER

August 2005

By Marion Laurence