Through the back window,
I saw the first yellow leaf of fall,
as I gathered your fur
that’s been collecting in the corner.
My friend,
I am not used to the idea
that you are dying.
Posted in Facebook Poetry, Katherine's Coffeehouse
Through the back window,
I saw the first yellow leaf of fall,
as I gathered your fur
that’s been collecting in the corner.
My friend,
I am not used to the idea
that you are dying.