My Dog is Dead
And it got me thinking about what else I’ll never get back.
I can’t pick up the phone and call my best friend to tell her.
Checkers will never again wiggle his (not very) little body next to mine on the couch.
I’ve never been able to talk to my father about anything besides
The dog. And as I mentioned, the dog is dead.
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This poem hurts my heart. But a very interesting wrinkle at the end with bit about the father. Very nice work.