Shadows

Jib here.

Mom wrote another poem for Sailor. She is still sad, but I am helping her be not so sad.

She says, "Zorba danced. I write."

Shadows

                                  

Only his shadow remains.

The shadow of a bark

Echoing in my ear

As the sun reaches toward twilight;

The shadow of a breeze

Swirling in my hand,

 Cold nose on a warm day;

The shadow of the grass

Rippling across the field

As my ghost dog runs by.

The splash in the water bowl,

The click of toenails,

The scent of wet fur -

Mere shadows all

But here,

 Never gone.

 Forever…

Shadows