Our Time

Chuy the Wonderdog


You wrack your brain seeking words

To describe a life spent without them.

To hold up, canonize, memorialize,

Constructed poems and homespun gems.

You try so hard to commit to memory

All those days of you and me.

Halcyon times, seasons without care,

The past, and trails that lead us there.

You dissect and contemplate.

To behold wonders held within.

To pierce the veil, catch the sun,

To hold the world on which we spin.

Your heart doth grieve, tears shall fall,

And mourning black you’ll wear for years.

When I am now most perfect and free,

I cannot comprehend your tears.


About Pazlo

Armchair Zen Master, father, fisherman, grandfather, poet, brother, naturalist, collector of old things, dog person, human.
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