Thursday, June 9, 2011

Family (Continued)


Ami Leaves
(1997-2011)

I do not want this night to end.
But through the window, my awakened eyes
See the morning sky begin to lighten.
In the still dark, the acrid smell of death
crosses my bedroon.  Ami rasps.
Her breathe uneven.
I listen as she licks her lips
to quench her progressing disease.
Morning arrives as she slips slowly away.
I carry her to the car a final time.
We drive round Westcrest, Roxburg Bog
and Lincoln Park…her cherished walks.
I sip coffee from my border collie cup.
Recall our thirteen years.
A rescue dog.  A rescued heart.

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