Oliver
He put the shovel in the earth
With dry eyed dread he shakes his head
He's not a man to show emotion
He'll do the job, dig up ground
go through the motions, build up the mound
before the evening sun goes down.
His wife and son are standing by
While clouds swell up and tears are cried
that stem from grief they cannot hide
....
They stand aside, and he begins
Beside him in the crate, homemade,
so carefully the dog was laid.
Old "Oliver", was his best friend
but this is where that story ends.
Love came to them, from who knows where
and with it came a million woes
of muddy paws and ticks and fleas
of broken screens, and mother's screams
of slippers torn, and growing pains
And a love like no one understands
until they've known this kind, unplanned.
Concealed are tears he will not shed
He's not a man to show his pain
He motions them to come, and bring
a worn-out shoe, a toy or two
to lay within the disturbed ground
And then beneath the chestnut tree
He puts the crate into the grave
Then shovels in the dirt again…
They walk away, and the sun goes down,
without a word, without a sound
Sometimes such silence has a thousand words to say
_____________________________________________________
8/9/16
For Contest: "Camouflage Me A Poem"
Sponsor: Broken Wings
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