I saw him this morning through the mist and the haze,
With a cane in his shaking old hand.
He was smiling at someone that I couldn't see.
He was walking with someone and laughing with glee.
He was talking with someone in gay repartee.
And I thought, "What a crazy old man."

But when he drew close I presumed from his words
That the loved one that I couldn't see,
Was a true lover lost, in the prime of their years,
Who remained true and faithful in sorrow and tears,
And still walked beside him consoling his fears.
And I thought, "Such a thing cannot be."

Surely I thought, "His senses are gone."
Deep sorrow has clouded his brain.
Now he totters along and he laughs all the while,
But in place of the tears, an exuberant smile,
As on life's long journey he treads the last mile.
And I thought, "Without doubt he's insane."

Then the mist of the morning withdrew for a time,
And the Sun through the haze and the fog,
Lit up the morning and brightened the day,
And heightened my vision and to my dismay,
There walking beside him in splendid array,
WAS HIS DOG.

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