Maybe right now I won’t put away
her little red collar, her favorite bed—
just in case she comes back one day,
in case I can smell the top of her head
and ears, and hear her pawing the door
when I come home and turn the key.
Maybe I’ll stroke her chest once more,
maybe she’ll really come back to me.
Maybe I’ll turn, and she’ll be there,
watching me so expectantly.
She’ll follow me closely down the stairs,
and rest on the couch, where we love to be.
Maybe, again, she’ll climb on the bed,
turn in circles, around and around
and settle, and finally lay her head
right where the top sheet is folded down.
Maybe—I hope—I’ll remember the feel
of her tousled fur, silky and sweet,
the sight of her dark and sparkling eyes,
and brows that twitch when she’s asleep.
Maybe I’ll feel that love again,
the kind that only a dog can give—
a piece of God, for mortal men.
Maybe I’ll feel that over again.
*For Zoey, our beloved Miniature Schnauzer
August 31, 2007 to March 5, 2018
…………..
#poetry. #petsdie. #grief. #babyboomers
More poetry at http://www.sallysandler.com
