Dreams of a Dog

Hear the storm pound its fists on the rooftop,
While the clock strikes the tiniest hours,
Window panes dancing around in their frames,
To the beat of the blustering showers.

There's a dog sleeping next to the fireplace,
Now and then he starts twitching his paws,
As he runs through his dreams in meadows of green,
Far away from the lonely indoors.

In a chair by the window, a shadow,
Of the man to whom sleep will not come,
Afraid of the ghosts that leap out of the dark,
Every time he begins to succumb.

So he's pouring out one more "last" nightcap,
Much more of a hand than a finger,
In honour of deeds that cannot be undone,
And unspoken words that yet linger.

Then he rises and walks to the fireplace,
To attend to the sputtering log,
He looks down at his sleeping companion,
And he longs for the dreams of a dog.

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