It's the things I can do now (that remind me of what I cant)

Since you have gone;

I can leave my plate of food, temporarily on the floor,
If I go to the kitchen, I can leave open the door,
I can step confidently and barefoot across my room,
In the dark,
(Canine incontinence is such a lark)

But I can never hear you bark,

I can leave my mattress where it lies on the floor,
(Never worrying about what urine may pour),
I can stay out at night until quarter to four,
I can spin around suddenly without treading on your paw,

But I cannot reverse the law,
Of death and grief,
Even though it thaws,
I can never trim your claws,
Or look on you lying,
In the place that is yours,

I can go out all day, I can stay over night,
I can leave early, winter mornings,
Without leaving on the light,
Leave the door open wide,
Without you taking flight,
I can leave food lower,
Than your heads height,

But I can never leave you, when I go out at night,
And I can never return to the welcoming sight,
Of you.

I can never leave you again.


(For Lilly)