dog

I fear your death more each day
as you get older and older.
You wheeze. Did you wheeze before?
I want to think you've been snoring
like this forever, curled at my feet,
but I seem to recall you were not
so tired, my friend, not so
malfunctioning.
If you die, die in my arms, die
while I am home, die so that
I know I was there for your transition,
and could walk you to the other side
as far as I could go.
You'll meet me there again, one day.
When it is my turn to walk,
you will wait for me I think,
just as you wait for me every day
to come home.