Non-Erotic PoetryCherokeea quiet night,
an empty yard,
security has fallen off
but the only thing on
my mind is
the spillled bowls and
lingering paw prints
reminding me of
golden locks gone
matted and muddy,
and of slow, labored
breaths
that still tried to
power challenges and hellos
that turned out to be
goodbyes,
making my eyes water
and my chest ache
at the unexpected discovery
that he was my dog too.
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