Poem: Wingy

His rhythm slowed with the fall of evening. The music kept going until the birth of morning. The dawn of sunrise and the rhythm returning; unfolding skies, flowers blooming Rain cascading, breaking hearts. The music faded, the small audience waited. Once before the mist had come. But the conductor summoned the band. It was the tambourine man that brought back the rhythm This time…we waited on the drum His youth was behind him, however, you could not tell. Faithful, loyal, protective of the ones who cared for him A part of the family. The mood was one of optimism; though short-lived. An empty plate, painful at times. The atmosphere has changed forever; all that is left are memories. He stood out from the rest. How obedient It happened all so fast The transition was complete within 24 hours That dreaded telephone call. Something was wrong, Mom’s trembling voice betrayed her. I braced myself, You can never be fully prepared for such news. Oh, to rub his back one last time, or to see him at play. Or fetch his water. Perhaps to throw him a bone, or to call out his name. Wingy! Bark silenced. Evil never takes a vacation. Poisoned? Mother feels it the most. She still looks for him at his usual place. But he is gone. ©

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