Deja Vu

The colours of autumn
the brown and red of dying leaves
the ember in the sunsets
the brightness of the dawn
the cool wind from the north
they remind me of what have been

Unmarked grave at the hillside
Just a bald patch on the ground
With wild flowers encroaching
The grassy frame on unhallowed soil
Unblessed by a priest
Yet mourned by a child

The smell of rain
And creeping mist
The lights of passing cars
It brought to mind
That loud strong thud
That killed my only friend
   
His name was Boyd
He had a black eye patch
A stray he was when he came to me
Beloved he was when he left me
My dog my only friend
Died today twenty years ago