They were found
placed ever so neatly
on the stair.
A bit of dirt,
small twigs,
a crumpled leaf, in parts.
Evidence of
your last climb.
The last few hours
we’d hugged you,
pressed your paw,
fed you cookies,
gathered round
your bed.
How soundless
when pain leaves
the echoing room
with sunlight rising
and falling
on a
bit of dirt,
small twigs,
a crumpled leaf, in parts.
Small, quiet, final gifts
regretfully swept away
after parting.
© 2024 Jennifer Wagner
For Sumana’s prompt at What’s Going On? Aubade (traditional or modern)
For our beloved labrador, Druke, 2000-2016.
