The afternoon of the day
You left me, I took you for a walk.
Your eyes bright, steps eager
I threw a ball, and for a moment
You were there, made real
by my heart.
I threw away my copy of old yeller
In films I ask ‘does the dog die in this?’
But I know the ending of this story
And I can’t rip up this book
When the vet scanned your heart last year
Mine cracked a little. A murmur
An echo of future pain
I started trying to read more slowly
Make the book last longer.
The last time we walked,
I am glad it was in the woods you loved
Even with the memory of you confused
And falling, and so tired
As I carried you home
Perhaps I can add more chapters
Change the ending a bit
This doesn’t have to be it
Why can’t I rip up this book.
Your hatred of things that move
Around you, or under you
Is your Achilles heel now.
This illness is your worst nightmare
And I make you endure
Driven by hope.
The afternoon of the day
You left me, I took you for a walk.