It isn’t fair, it isn’t right; I don’t care what they say.
My dog was more than a pet to me; I lost a friend today.
Though I did the kindest thing, and stayed with her to the last.
I come back to a quiet house, now that my friend has passed.

The unused leash, the ownerless bowl, I survey through my tears.
Meg was my boon companion. Far too few were her years.
The vet gave me a cherished poem that I’ll read tonight again.
It promised Meg will wait for me just beyond the rainbow’s end.

The souls of Dogs are gentle which is why it takes less time
Before they achieve perfection and are ready for the climb
To that place across the rainbow, to the place where journeys end-
where the roses bloom forever I will always have my friend

Unafraid,
she makes
red braids
wrapping
death
around her
soft wrist.

Her pliable
flesh
screams
fresh
mercies.

Inside
the porcelain
prism
pain
is no longer
her prison.
Life
is no longer
her poison.

Once crushed
life’s fluid
is now
a stagnant wine
that drips down
her limber vine.

For all that abused
drank her dry
felt her up and used
all the tears in her life
she is now
an empty wineskin
with no more life
to hold in.

Death was hers
and she told him
where and when
they would be
meeting.
It was
the only game
she was capable
of winning.

No note,
no warning call,
no shot off the port
From a cannonball;
She just dove
headfirst into
the dark black that
will eventually
claim you to.

When the mind circles      like an eagle soars,
lost souls will fly high     crying out for home.