by Diane Lefebvre
I find it hard to tell you of the love I feel for them,
These gentle little creatures that Ive come to call my friends.
They joined me in the years of life when human touch grew sparse,
When memories of some folks I'd loved . . were best left in the past.
A time with children leaving home to spread their wings and fly,
While I remained upon the ground to wave a fond goodbye.
I feel the Good Lord knew I'd need, someone to love just then,
One for laughter, one for joy, but both to be my friend.
As shadows of the day creep in and home means . . only me,
Two faces framed in window pane, are what each night I see.
Returning to a quiet house to find them there alone,
Lights up the pathway to my heart and makes my house, my home.
The walks they need, the food, the care, the petting, and the play,
Guides me from that former life, to this life I have today.
Their the first things that get tended when I wake up in the morn,
And the last face that is seen by me, until a brand new dawn.
I'm not ashamed to tell the truth . . they sleep upon my bed,
Snuggled up against my side . . while I cling to the edge.
And when I'm feeling out of sorts, as happens frequently,
Concern is in their caring eyes, kind face upon each knee.
Yes, I have known all kinds of love, but this one's not the least,
Some brought laughter, some brought tears; this love brings me peace.
And come the day when pups must leave, per orders from above,
I'll thank the Lord for sending me . . 'This Other Kind Of Love'.