Elegy to Our Boy

 

Quill on his scratch tubeIt is so hard to say goodbye.  The end has come.

     I knew it would . . .  someday. 

Such a good boy;

for seven too short years, our Quill, always there for us,

            wanting a pat, a lap, a snack to make you fat.

You were a stray, rejected by the world, rescued;

alone but hopeful.  Slowly a trusting friendship,

            you won my heart and eventually in my arms you were curled.

How can I endure this cruel world without my friend?

     So brief a time we are given, But of course, I must go on . . .

Quill, playing otterYou are busy grooming your speckled sable fur,

     amber eyes twinkle, a little pink tongue busy curling;

a paw, a face . . .  something catches your attention;

            you jump up to swat a passing fly buzzing.

Sprawled on the floor, playing otter – you curl up for a nap,

or begging ear-rubs and scratches on a lap.

Seven years is too brief, my dear,

     and death came to you like a thief;

Until I draw my last breath, I will hold you in my heart ~~
  the price we pay for loving you so much, is grief.

But, I would not change one moment of our time together,

      you were a gift of Love, to last me all my lifetime.

And as you drew your last breath,

      I whispered in your ear, be at peace dear boy —

We will love you, forever. And miss you twice as long.

For Quill, 15 April 2022
Ashleigh Mitchell