Evenings, at sunset, out my window I see
a man and his dog, but they never see me.
They walk along slow, never changing their pace,
a look of contentment spread over each face.
I sit and I watch, though I should look away,
the sight makes me sad at the end of each day.
For I know when they turn, to make their way home,
I'll remain sitting here, I'll remain all alone.
My own faithful friend's been gone many a year,
yet the view from my window can still bring a tear.