Missing

 
Last night I dreamt of Sullie,
We were walking in the park
And Sullie ran in sheer delight,
I could almost hear him bark.
Just like a silent movie
But in colour, very bright,
Sullie chased at all the leaves
Just like a puppy might,
And only certain sounds came through,
Like the rustle as we walked,
The chain round Sullie’s furry neck
And the birds that Sullie stalked.
Then just as dreams drift out of sense
Old George was sitting there,
Fishing over by the pond
In his leatherette armchair,
And Sullie bounded over
In his usual doggy way
But he got far too excited
So I sent him off to play,
But when I’d finished chatting
And began to look around
The park was green and empty
And I listened for his sound.
Then I called and called for Sullie,
I could hear my voice ring out,
Until Old George said kindly,
“Nay lass, no need to shout.
He’s gone to find his master
And all will be all right,
You know you’re only dreaming,
It’s the middle of the night.”
But when I opened up my eyes
To the new day’s harsh, grey glare
My heart cried out for Sullie
And the times we used to share,
For that cold wet nose of greeting,
For the wagging of his tail,
For that look of loyal belonging
For the love that did not fail.
And I yearned to be still dreaming,
And that Sullie came when called
And we walked away together
As if time had somehow stalled.


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Lost Dog