Gaston

Under a Peace Rose
he rests,
surrounded by daffodils,
in the tranquility of an English garden.

Near to the woods he loved
over hanging a quiet river valley,
where all the seasons changes
were a joy to us.

In the Spring he ran through the Bluebells
parting them as if they were the sea,
Snow Drops the foam.
Banks softly glowing with primroses
like a sandy beach.

As the seasons changed, so did natures colours
The green and purple of the violets of summer,
multi shades of autumn brown,
and the white and gray of winter.
We loved them all.

Glimpses of pheasant, fox and squirrel.
The fleeting view of deer.
All the things that he enjoyed in life,
and dreamed of when he slept.

Now he can chase them for ever.

My sounding board and comfort in times of trouble,
he always trusted me and rewarded me
with unquestioning love and loyalty.
Always in my memory,
rest well my friend.