Wind whips fur, a salty spray,
Cliffside king surveys the bay,
Tail tucked, ears pricked, eyes hold blue,
A silent watch, a heart untrue.
Whiskers twitch, a gull’s cry cuts keen,
Memories dance, of walks unseen.
A hand that stroked, a voice that cheered,
Lost in the mists the one he revered.
No stick to fetch, no frisbee’s flight,
Just the endless waves, and fading light
Now just the scent of brine and distant gulls,
Aching ears for a familiar voice that calls.
But loyalty binds, a steadfast vow,
To guard this empty space, somehow.
Perhaps a return, a joyous leap,
A wet nose nudge, a slumber soft and deep.
Wind whips the peak, a lonely whine,
He waits for his friend, by the mountain’s spine.
Hope flickers bright, a tiny flame,
As the loyal dog waits, whispers a name.
