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Sunday, December 18, 2016

POEM FOR MILLIE


There’s a dead dragonfly hanging
on to our car’s front number plate. One
fine wing blowing in the wind
stops me today as I grieve for Millie,
my faithful companion who died
quietly in my hands, her body
losing all the tension
of her final fevers. Death
is the last roll of life’s dice,
the final token we pay – yet
our greatest relief.

                                    I file this poem
under POEM FOR MILLIE yet
I know it is for me, perhaps
for you, to lessen the sorrow, yet
to remember Millie. My bare feet
are cold as I type, cold where she
would lie across and keep them warm.

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