Prints
In every pile of laundry’s folds
A silhouette appears
a face
I can’t remember
Where a perch would be
To sit
and watch
The trembling dog pass by.
There was a time before
Of two dogs no more
Who chased so valiantly
A face with whiffs of toast
Aged for years in days
We tut and tutter
Weep and mutter
How we’ll end your days
Eyes wide slowly slouch
Into a green and creamy haze
Goodbyes you never heard
A slumber endless still
I wonder how
I’ll break the news
To those who wished you well