Faded Away
Faded away—
and all that is left
is the shape of it—
the memory.
Brown leaves lightly disturbed
in their cold deathbeds by
your black paws—
ears lifted—slanted forward.
Your eager stride
out of the black shroud
and to your mournful friend.
Staircase races—laughs—
my own laughs—
and your innocent eyes
and your crooked tail.
It is foolish that you should
fade like the leaves that you
tiptoed through.
I hope the darkness
has left you,
and that you still
stride bravely
toward the light of
all you love.
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2021
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