Good ideas and conversation. No ads, no tracking. Login or Take a Tour!
- ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND
I was always hyper-conscious
aware of being aware of
her beauty and boundless grace
I fretted about losing her
long before she was taken.
A peculiar poignancy
was imbued in every touch.
With every luxurious caress
my mind warned of loving
her too much.
So that now, when I turn
to find the emptiness
she always filled,
I am pinned to the crosstimbers of
anguish and I-told-you-so.
I always knew she was
too beautiful, too joyous
too heedless in her
rapture of life
to last long.
I find no comfort
in being correct.
-- Caroll Houser
A poem my wife wrote about one of the best dogs we ever had.