It happened during the night. We ventured out in the morning to find our old friend fallen. No more would we hear the patter of hooves across his broad shoulders. No more would we revel in his magnificent, albeit wooden, stature. No more to feel the smoothness of his unyielding expanse beneath soft caprine lips. No more to relish the fond promise of a good scratch against his stalwart margins. Good-bye old friend. We shall search the alleyways near and far for one of your caliber, but none can ever fully replace you. You were one of a kind and we shall miss you terribly.
"...as they die, the ones we love, we lose our witnesses, our watchers, those who know and understand the tiny little meaningless patterns, those words drawn in water with a stick. And there is nothing left but the endless flow." - Anne Rice
6 comments:
My aren't we dramatic today. Don't scare me like that. Jeesh.
Smiles (and eye rolls),
Lisa
Zut alors.
Godspeed spool. You will be missed.
Dear goatfarmer,
It is far too early in the morning for me to have to be using Babelfish...which doesn't help at all anyway. Thank goodness for wikipedia.
A year or two ago, the Old Man of the Mountain (see NH quarter for illustration) fell--much to the disappointment of all those in New England. We assumed at the time that that would forever be known as the thud heard round the world. Now we know we were wrong. RIP, cable-spooly-thingy. We mourn your passing.
Poor goats, I know that spool was loved by them!
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