The trees have fallen down on our old stomping ground.
I can't see the light of the shade your paw prints used to leave...
Your eye lashes glimmered In dusty light
against a furrowed brow that winced in my delight...
My eyes rested on your lingering soul as you tarnished my heart aglow...
The trail is steep and rocks do flow
at waters' edge where your paws did grow...
My mind is set on still memories pondering the autumn moles that danced about and you chased in the twinkling twilight...
I hold still in thought your beauty...
Curly locks grey with age...
The box now neatly arrayed on the shelf...
Rose atop white and pure....
It is my last lure
To my lost and empty self....
The ashes wisp the trail's bend and alas the mud you so spiritually dived in...
Cleansed and pure ...
I think...
And I cry...
As I say my last goodbye...
via Whisker Therapy