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How many wonderful canine companions
have come through my life, I hesitate to count,
each one a dear friend that brightened my
daily existence, taught me lessons no human
could, faithfully loved me with committed
devotion and asked for so very little in return.
Yes, it is true, dogs are man's best friend.
As I near my own ending, reflection has become
a daily preoccupation. Of course, I miss and
lovingly remember my departed human family
members and work hard trying to recall their
human forms, all gone now for over fifty years,
I've mostly forgotten their voices, and their
features beyond old fading mostly black and
white photos. As I will forever honor their
memories, so do I cherish the memory of my
canine family members, there were seven in
all, I just counted them. Six Boxer dogs and
a big sweet giant Rottweiler, who looked
like he might eat your face, but instead
always preferred to lick it.
In the eerie hours half asleep
I heard my name in a soft voice.

It was a wake up call I couldn't resist
The jungle was in dark mist
The night ending but morning was still frail
The call was to tread on the fallen leaves trail.

The trees were shaded dark the sky was pale
Every bush was where the shadows fell
Quiet was the air our heart tautly tense
We tiptoed our best, and it made sense.

Tweet of early birds didn't sound sweet
Danger awaited at all sides to meet
We strained ears for the slightest sound
The jungle a romance on a perilous ground.

On the dry boulded river shapes were deep
Moving in a herd crawling to the steep
We stood frozen on this other side
To let the distance between grow wide.

Years have flown and whenever in the woods
I see my father's figure in jungle brood
He wakes me up and stretches his hand
We fly through the bushes in jungle land.
Humbly dedicated to my father who was an avid walker in the forest in the wee hours of the morning. It was on such a trip he met with an accident and died.
Where are you
Dreamers under the sun
Miss you, love you every one
Artists painting endless panoplies
Scribblers scribbling in their beds
From the depths of imagination
Stories awakening in their heads
Poets’ pens poised to flow
Rhymers growing wings to creation
Eager to take flight, ready to go
The rivers of time move on
Until words and pictures are inked
Every one of these
Redeemers, fantasy givers
All beauty becomes linked
Poems and stories are gifts
Here to relieve the monotony
Of the considered norm, lifts
Pathways to the soul, endless rivers
To keep us sane, make us whole
Where are you
Dreamers under the sun
Miss you........
Love you every one
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