Even if the oceans were of ink
my pen would run dry
before expressing my love to you on paper.
The cat, after he catches his dinner,
plays with it in the same manner that
a young child does.
I stand near the lintel of my door waiting for you
to come home. But I know you won't because they told me
you died in the battle.
Even in my old age I can still hear the little
footsteps of our children across the
hardwoods floors in the morning.
A squirrel races up his tree with a nut and the wind blows
westerly across my face. I wonder why my life can't be
as simple where I just fetch nuts all day and climb trees.
The call of the wild is strong
on Elsa, although she never forgets
her human family.
The poet tells us not to go gentle into that
good night and I sure as hell won't. But we
all know that death still has the upper hand over us.
I look out the window and see
a bird in his birdbath. He sings his song and
does not even realize the cat who is about to pounce on him.
Many years have gone by and
even though the passage of time has erased the memory
of your name, the feeling of magic we shared that night remains.