Joan E. Clark
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To My Dear Old Friend
The horses of Helios rise to cross the skies,
The pale lamp of Diana gently fades and dies,
Tears of Eos slowly melt away,
The world awakes to greet another day.
We are both getting old, my little friend
And our romps through the woodlands soon must end.
How many more dawns will we see, we two,
Before I must say farewell to you?
The path to the woodland gets more steep
But we still go each day, our routine to keep;
We pause and pretend that you've found a new scent;
Your legs are stiff and my back is bent!
When the snow white ...