Bullet
I gazed at a photo of empty faces;
taken a great many years ago;
all, standing, dutifully, in their places;
Spring had erased all fallen snow.
A family photo, for a church album, to be;
scheduled, well in advance;
all felt great sorrow; none could foresee;
everyone held in grief’s trance.
Photography requires, but a moment of time;
its product lasts forever;
memories retained, by a black and white, sublime;
seems such a worthless endeavor.
We had suffered the loss of a family pet;
tho Bullet had been closest to me;
all eyes were etched by a sphere of regret;
thru tears, I could barely see.
A pure Cocker Spaniel, was his mother;
his father had long since deserted;
he never knew any sister or brother;
to our family; he was inserted.
Bullet was the love of a young boy’s life;
forever; he would be my friend;
always there, through trials and strife;
a friendship, never to end.
He was God’s love; granted for a reason;
bonding our family together;
a companion; only meant for a season;
with memories to last forever.
Most of us have at least one Bullet; or more;
angelic beings, sent from above;
subtly inserted through reality’s door;
sent to teach us to love.
Monty 3/19/23. # 1, 491