4OE

Each scrape and scrap and swing and chunk

of earth he pulls from hard ground

brings us closer to the time where

we must say goodbye to our friend Lily,

who’s body lays upon the mound.

With a wetness to his features

he lovingly lowers poor old Lily,

one of the world’s finer creatures,

into her resting place, down,

at the back of the garden,

beneath the shady pine and

near his garden chair.

 

He sits there, in his chair,

thinking of her, of Lily,

our companion so fair

and brave and bright

and full of life’s light

that when he smiles,

thinking thoughts of her,

our dog Lily, his glee

illuminates the trees

and birds and plants and bees

of Lily’s corner of our garden,

where she remains to be.