Tuesday, August 25, 2009


Not needing her leash

She was nevertheless tied

To me in her own way

Till her dying day.

She was always whichever

Way I looked or stepped

Or walked, however long

And however far

Even on days as hot

As this. We would

Run to each tiny bit of shade

Along our mountain trail,

Our eyes red with the sun

Watching the passing time

Undulating like the sea,

She in her panting reality

And I shining in mine,

Even when she couldn’t hear or see

She would still run searching,

Exhausting herself until she found me

Again and again until she was done.

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