Westly's Friend

a poem by John Starks, USA

His dog, his friend, was gently laid to rest:
His given time, which now seems brief, is spent,
Though he, when living, proved the proof of zest,
Who made his doting master quite content.
His loving dog was loyal to the end:
He never deviated from the joy
Which makes him, celebrated as a friend,
E'en tempt a fledging man to prove a boy.
Yet, he does live within the reverie
Of one so moved by what engenders thought,
Of one who yet recalls the certainty
Which understanding had, in meaning, wrought.
His dog, his friend, was gently put away,
Yet night, so dark, shall introduce the day!

On Tony's Bent
United Nations

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