Berlin

She was my friend. My pet. My Rottweiler.

The pageant ended, not too soon,

as she was locked in despair.

Every move ratcheting her bones,

into a parade of tremors.

 

Too soon, the end demanded,

her role in the final act, spent,

so giving, unselfish her love,

bequeathing even her dusk.

 

But so grand was her light,

granting moonlight’s peace,

where joy, unselfish ever rises,

and bold, unshaken by disease.

 

Then crying quietly, holding firm,

to life’s parade and celebration,

she gazed upon me, joy in her eyes,

 as her life faded, unjudging, still loving.

 

No word ever uttered.

None ever needed.

She spoke much more, by deed,

gifting the sweet pageant of her life.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed