Winston Has Passed On

Winston has passed on... She heard him rummaging, turning on taps opening the fridge, you know, stuff like that removing her coat, a black felt-like hat she set the long table and stroked her sad cat then calling out as he stomped upstairs You know that snow has stopped out there? idly listening to his suitcases click life, she mused, is cruel, unseemly quick You see he'd bought his doggie fresh meat rarely would Winston receive such a treat she vigorously scrambled eggs with soft butter anxiously preparing a meal for their supper their tea lightly milked before she'd reveal she'd buried his dog in that far orchard field buried him deep in a Hessian sack buried him deep next to old Jack Winston will never again play fetch eat them damn apples **** dribble retch how could she describe Winston's demise how could she prevaricate confabulate lie they'd constantly worried about it all going to far those hoops that tunnel that damn see-saw devilish chicanes coloured balls Yet round and round he loved it all so feckin happy before he finally expired one more summer you know he'd be nearly retired excessive exertions is what they would say Vet said so, don't ya know last Wed-nes-day now poor Winston would run no more howl to get in before peeing on the floor don't cry she sobbled it is for the best but I felt such guilt I must also state this before I smothered that big head in wet clay I painted his death mask earlier today Oh how he wept as he turned sad and broken Winston's image, a poorly executed token