Waiting For The Master
By Norm Olson, Nikiski
With a ball by its side our old dog died
In the place it had laid each day.
And we remembered how it had whimpered and cried
Each time my Father had to travel away.
Time was when they’d follow a trail
Or play in the afternoon sun.
Its love song a sigh and the wag of its tail
At Father’s feet when the long day was done.
“Now you wait here,” was all that Dad said,
“I will come back later and then we will play.”
And Father drove down the road wherever it led
And his dog waited and watched all day.
And there near the drive it laid through the night
And was there when the sun reached its crest.
But while his dog watched and awaited his Master’s sight
Elsewhere we laid Father to rest.
Yes, faithful to my Father was that gentle old dog
As each day it returned to that place,
Awaiting the touch of his Master’s hand
And the smile on his Master’s face.