CONSOLATION

     She’s gone and in my heart I’ve let her go,
     No longer clinging to what I can’t hold,
     No longer palpable—it must be so,
     Though in my memory she won’t grow old,
     For dearly I’ll recall her winsome ways,
     Cavorting in excitement for a treat
     Or simply blessing us with her fond gaze,
     Her chin on her front paws, her silky feet,
     Or how she’d howl at the midnight moon
     Or at some specter in her fitful dream,
     Startling us from slumber with her tune,
     Left shivering in the chilly lunar gleam.
         She’s left us now with dearest memories,
         Which we shall summon any time we please.

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