Stop All The Clocks || A Sad, Sad Post

Today I want to a steal of a moment of your day to note the passing of my precious cat, Smartie. I wish I could bring happier news but I am so, so sad and am going to therefore unburden this grief in the only way a literary blogger can. I want to discuss some of the characters that have touched my life in ways that are comparable to how Smartie enriched mine.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with the juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and, with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin. Let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message: β€œHe is dead!”
Put crepe bows around the white necks of the public doves.
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my north, my south, my east and west,
My working week and Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song.
I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one.
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can come to any good.

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