Monday, December 28, 2009

The Book Hound Oona in memorium 12/25/2009

Long after they follow Death
they stand beside us, or walk
at our heels.
We see them
from the corners of our eyes.
A lost toy, a wisp of fur, caught
in some dark corner, after we think
all trace is gone, haunting
the empty place reserved for them.
Their warm weight shapes itself
to memory, brushing agsint us
leaving an echo.

Their names are with us.
We speak to them
and know somehow
they answer us
From the shadows
in our hearts.

No comments:

Post a Comment