Poem: Milky Saucers

Crow On The Wire

The hour before he died,

his eyes floated in milky saucers. 

In his silent and melancholic agony,

he spoke in whispers that only I could hear.

He dragged his paralyzed hind legs,

inching closer to me with a sigh and struggle. 

He wanted my warm hands to stop his shiver,

to pet his bristly fur, to sit on my lap one last time. 

He wanted to savor the few remaining moments

of his favorite human before his body

moved to another realm.

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