A Bereavement
Before the last days, the widow-to-be told a friend
how she had now to walk her dying husbandıs dog.
Park-walking, they were times when she felt free to weep.
The dog, however, whenever she began, would stop,
refuse to walk on with her, until the tears ceased.
After the burial, mourners drove on round to the family house,
stepping in the front door gingerly,
heading for the drinks and finger food,
stooping first to notice the pretty miniature collie.
It lounged on the carpet near the open door into the garden,
as if ready for the chattering crowd to move on,
and take up again its park-walking duty.
Max Richards
North Balwyn, Melbourne
Wednesday 20 April 2005
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