Today at dVerse, Sarah (many thanks, Sarah!) has asked us to compose a poem about a lost love, one that happened or didn’t happen, the remnants of Valentine’s. After a few attempts, I, of course, went off in another direction—different drummer heard.
At the periphery of my mind’s eye, he skips alongside Huckleberry & Sophie but distant always his way safe from the fray ghost footfalls shy. Every morning, I involuntarily glance toward his chaise, wish for white chin on freckled paws, liquid sweetly expectant eyes instead: sunshine’s stark acceptance abandoned, his silent toy lamb.