Coming on a Year

A Year of Losing a Dog and Parenting a new Pup

It’s coming on a year
Since life and death danced;
Helix of fading and birthing,
Each strand their own;
Yet spun together
In life’s tapestry.

I strain to hear whispers
Of whom has since passed;
I glimpse each morning
fading shade on field bounding.

Yet that was then,
And now is new…
No different;
As nothing is new
Under this old sun.

Yet you, my new companion,
Are still a few weeks short
Of your first trip;
One we started together
On your tenth day.

Would that you met your
Precedent; to learn
The vigil and rules she kept.

To learn how to whisper,
And play these games of ours.
But, I suppose, I’m not
To old to learn
These games of yours.

Time is all we have
and flows as tears.