Farewell

You called today, ‘Please walk the dogs.’
Of course we came, how could we not.
The threshold barred by dying bird,
Its legs still tremble, beak ajar,
And sucks so hard to get that breath
That keeps its heart still beating.

This tragic omen sends a shiver,
I shield my eyes as I walk in.
Those lively tails deflect my thoughts,
Distract me from the dying bird,
And they just run and pull their leads,
To find those open fields and skies.

The dying bird they just ignore.
Oblivion, a useful state,
But we are human; metaphors
Form in our minds, our hearts, our souls.
There is a room that shallow breath
Fills slowly; aching hearts watch on.

The skies are blue, some springtime warmth
Perks up our eager canine friends.
A cloud moves west and hides the sun,
We shiver as a bird flies by.
The walk is done, we turn for home,
We strain to hold onto the leads.

The bird is still, his life-thread cut,
His shallow breath now still as death.
There is a bird.  There is a room
That shares the final breath; the beat,
Now still, released from life and pain.
Farewell, dear friend, fly high and free.