My Beloved Is Home that old familiar scent burnt wood in a dew caressed morn wafted through my nostrils waking me up from my noonday slumber that old familiar call a voice I've heard these so many years giving me delight each time I hear my name if I could speak I would have said: "Here I am, my beloved!" But I am only a dog, and with sincerity and devotion, I say: "Awrf! Awrf! Awrf!"