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I still remember a forgotten bark
of a dog called Skippy.

Even within the walls of a new house.
In the dreadful darkness of my mournful
nightmere I remember a mischievous
twinkle of two coal black eyes from a dog
once called Skippy. Remembering horrid
memories of what was thought to be lost, is
remembered forever more.

Wanting to remember something happy before
she was gone, but only knowing what I last saw,
remembering that and only that of my beloved dog.

Wanting to call her name, wishing to look into hers
see them stare into mine a thing is fine.
and looking at me like everythings fine.

But never again will I stare into her eyes, never
feeling quite alive never feeling warm and happy
know she is waiting for me when ever I come home.