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.