Beau's Place
by Jack Sando
The runt of the litter
is what was explained,
By the couple who asked us to
give him a home and a name.
We said we would take him,
right there on the spot,
With the house and the garden,
and the plans for the lot.
After all, it was Beau's place,
before it was ours,
And his custom, we learned,
was to water the flowers.
He came when we called,
he was smart as a whip.
When we got in our car,
he jumped in for the trip.
Beau spoke in a language,
whose words were unclear,
But he always made certain
at least we would hear.
We knew Beau would greet us
when we entered the door,
He preferred to be lifted
than to stay on the floor.
Beau sought out our company
from morning to night,
He even took walks with us,
Now that was a sight.
Beau made each day sweet
with the love that he gave,
Which is why it was hard,
when he died, to be brave.
|
