by Angela Kempe
The creek rushes and Sam goes running,
After leaves drifting down stream.
The water shushes, my tears are hiding,
And the day blurs like a dream.
The trees are stirring as I’m walking,
But leaves have long since gone.
So branches crackle, bending, moaning,
As they try to carry on.
A ray of light breaks through the grey sky,
And I could smile at how,
You are like the snow that melted,
Beloved, but gone now.
(For my soul dog, George, who lived a good 15 years)