A FAREWELL FROM A FRIEND

On the last great day, I walked through a forest with you.

You marveled at the light filtering through the deep, dark trees.

Your feet made no sound on the soft, fragrant duff.

You cuddled me and said some things.

And I thought:  This is great.  I’m on a walk.

On the last great day, we stepped over a tiny brook.

Because the water was clean and cool and pure,

You paused for me to wade and enjoy a refreshing sip.

You cuddled me and said some things.

And I thought:  This is great.  I’m on a walk.

On the last great day, we climbed out of the forest to a grassy hill.

When we got to the top, you wondered at the view.

You talked about seeing forever and you sang some notes.

You cuddled me and said some things.

And I thought:  This is great.  I’m on a walk.

On the last great day, we loaded up to go home.

You lifted me into the way-back because, for some reason, I couldn’t jump in.

But I felt warm and tired and fulfilled all at once.

You cuddled me and said some things.

And I thought:  This is great.  I’m on a ride.

On the last great day, we lay on the floor.

The evening’s darkness slipped in through the window.

You held me close, your hand rising and falling on my restive side.

You cuddled me and said some things and cried.

And I thought:  This is great.  I’m taking a nap.

On that last great day, we climbed a hill –

A second one – a different one.

And before you unhooked my leash and set me on my way,

You cuddled me and said some things.

And I thought:  This is great.

© 2014

Church of the Open Road Press.