Poem

Save for the humming of the bee's
And raindrops falling through the trees,
The wood was silent as a grave
Whilst shafts of sunlight made a brave
Attempt to pierce the velvet gloom
As lonely as an empty room
Alone was I but not afraid
The friend I'd been with must have strayed,
For tho' I called, no answer came
And so I played a splendid game
In the bracken wet and thick
With my favourite walking stick
And then a voice called out quite near:
'So there you are, old chap, come here'
And sitting there, upon a log
Was my best friend, who said 'Good dog'.

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