To Puppy, with love: A poem 

The lost pages of the past outlast 

all scores of the present like a vast 

universe that is both slow and fast 

where love is silent, but is the ship’s mast  

And I can steal from childhood like Mum’s meal 

And Dad loved you profoundly like a precious deal 

Your intelligence and instinct were in your heels 

And though you were forgotten, it is, for you, now I feel 

Love is never misbegotten, though may be forgotten 

Its history and magic can never be shortened 

I planted Poppies for you, and understood why 

Virgo always touches the earth, but flies very high