my thoughts had drifted
to my oldest friend,
my downy-feathered softie,
Yolanda, who has been
in God’s earth for years,
right near the barn,
where hubby rests as well,
and when I check, at night
and make my rounds
to see that all my critters
are safe in their straw beds,
I pause, because I hear,
each night, the chatter
of two souls so long departed,
and, hurrying inside
I feel my heart, it pounds
and seems too heavy for my chest
no doubt it needs to be,
to generate this warmth
that floods, like a deluge
throughout my hairy chest.
Oh yes, Yolanda, precious goose,
we never picked a name for him!
There was no time,
and we must learn
to be prepared
as there may come a day
when you, my love are called,
though I am praying every day
that you be given by the gods
a minute just to kiss my lips good-bye.