His Master's Voice.
Posted: Wed May 05, 2010 9:56 am
I like this, although it is so sad. A member of a local writers group wrote it.
His master vanished, long ago,
He suddenly wasn't there.
No-on to bring the slippers for,
An empty favourite chair.
The house was silent for a time,
The mistress dressed in black.
He missed his walks and heard them say
The master would never come back.
Then it came on Christmas Eve,
When snow was on the ground;
A strange device, the mistress said,
A box for making sound.
He watched it from the corner,
Then he bounced out to rejoice;
Forget the machine now mistress,
I can hear my master's voice.
And, so he sat, his ears pricked up,
By the side of the strange machine,
Listening to his master's voice,
Though his master couldn't be seen.
His master vanished, long ago,
He suddenly wasn't there.
No-on to bring the slippers for,
An empty favourite chair.
The house was silent for a time,
The mistress dressed in black.
He missed his walks and heard them say
The master would never come back.
Then it came on Christmas Eve,
When snow was on the ground;
A strange device, the mistress said,
A box for making sound.
He watched it from the corner,
Then he bounced out to rejoice;
Forget the machine now mistress,
I can hear my master's voice.
And, so he sat, his ears pricked up,
By the side of the strange machine,
Listening to his master's voice,
Though his master couldn't be seen.