With every church clock bang further from faith
he rises to absorb the Sunday morning,
reading the paper to comment the world
while his old dog sighs and waits patiently
like once his wife did, before she disappeared
into the fading wallpaper.
After the ringing of the bell the silence
Becomes too much for him to bear
And his own voice has nothing to say anymore.
He leaves the house to take the dog for a walk;
At that moment rain starts to pour and will be pouring
Till the moment he returns home. His dog knows this.