I look at the flowers, and remember
Lying beside him in the grass,
His eyes of green half closed,
As if dreaming.
He used to give me such thoughtful looks
As if his mind contained
Fathomless depths, filled with verdant things.
I weep now, knowing that Lucky has died.
My tears feed the flowers and grass
Where together we used to lie.
Desperate for an answer
As to whether his soul is safe,
I look up and see in the sky
A rolling retinue of cotton-like clouds.
My dog is somewhere in them
Gliding gently by.
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