Tuesday, December 10, 2013



Aimless Love


Fluff ball of pup, in a sack below a bridge, mewling.

Big farmer hands give back the life, warning the missus not to become too attached. 
We have enough dogs, gruff voice, he’s not up to much anyways.

He’s a she, the missus said.
All the more reason then, find it a home.
Silent night, frosty morning.  Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

Mewling and yelping from a yellow haired child.  
Santa read my letter, he did, and he brought me a puppy for my very own, he did.
A girl puppy.  Mine. I love her black hair with the browny bits.  And she loves me the best.
I know cos she licks my face. 
Delicious doggy kisses.
Skittery puppy feet on shiny lino, dancing into our hearts.
Quiet, yellow haired child filled with years of aimless love.

Time gallops by.
The yellow bird of our hearts grows wings and soars.
Trusting us to love whats left behind.

Seventeen is a great age for a dog, everyone says.
Seventeen years of aimless devotion.
Seventeen years of the purest love.

How do you tell a far away, yellow haired child that the source of her joy is gone?

 

   

3 comments:

Isabelle said...

Hmm. Very sad.

Pauline said...

You send her this post.

Molly said...

Little Blister! I only found this now...Haven't been around Blogland much. So sorry Degas is gone. Lovely pup that she was. Never mind the yellow-haired child, how are you coping?