Sad Song to an Old Dog…

Sad song

to an old dog…

You are getting older

slower, sleeping more, you seem

to be hiding from us more often.

i wish you could speak with words

instead of flowing furry feelings,

such sad eyes.

Are you old friend in pain?

Will we know when that time comes?

Will we know when saying goodbye to you,

is the most necessary and humane thing to do?

How will I be able to tell?

When you do not walk so well?

When you stop eating or drinking?

When you stop dreaming?

Will we know when the time comes to put you down?

Will we know when it is best for you, to visit, that fabled “Rainbow Bridge.”??

How do we know when it is best for us to let you go?

A sad sad song for an old mighty dog.

I cannot help but selfish wish,this choice comes later, rather than sooner.

We still love you so very much.

Your a part of Us.

You still eat your treats, wag your tail, jump up to greet us,

still long to play or have a pet between your ears.

So afraid to let go of you before your time.

We never want to hurt you-or desert you.

I hope that day comes later rather than sooner.

I am still not ready for that final goodbye. 

You still have that twinkle in your eye. That smile upon your lips.

A good friend, the best kind.

oh, gosh how will we ever know, when that time comes

to say one last goodbye?

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The Firecracker

The Firecracker-10/02/14

Thursday 1:51pm EST

The clock stands still

at 2 O’Clock.

I feel the crispness of the Fan.

As I silently wait for her.

The one who buys groceries,

in her sixty-ish skin,

fraile yet forever,

frisky.

 

She’ll carry all of them,

in by herself-

if I don’t wait to greet her.

 

Her-She-She is,

the One

with Ab-fib,

history of heart attacks, high blood pressure,

diabetes type 2 and even more…

 

But despite all of that,

She’s a Spitfire.

Do not Ever,

underestimate her.

 

She’s stubborn,

like a shotgun.

She is solid like granite,

although she bears a few

cracks.

 

The clock stands still

at 2 O’Clock.

I feel the cool crispness

of the Fan.

 

And I plan

to remain here,

sitting silently

waiting,

 

for my husband’s Mother,

to come bursting through

the front door

like a firecracker.

 

(sidenote: just 2 hrs after I wrote this poem, I caught her outside attempting to mow our lawn. I yelled to her She shouldn’t do that that She knows she is not supposed too. Ignoring me, She did the 1/3 of the backyard she could manage and came inside for a nap. When I complained to my husband he just laughed at me….)