Monday, May 23, 2016

A Poem for Mr. Pooh W. Bah

I knew him a little
A dignified presence
Loved by his human, Richard,
like Jack loved Tyke (read Big Sur)

Goodbyes are hard
Planned as much as un-
The finality scrapes
us raw and reminds
of our own finality to come

How deep our love
runs for a pet
How deep our grief
runs for a friend

But we "accept loss forever"

Godspeed, Pooh

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

How deep indeed.
Pooh was the last of the four cats that M and I had. It seemed that as each one passed, the love we had for them funneled into the survivors. Being the last man standing, Pooh got all that love, and he received it like a king... and returned it.

Thank you for the poem.