My friend is gone.
I'll never see her again,
never see her coming towards me with her tail lifted up,
happily trotting
on silk-soft, sand-coloured paws.
Never again
will I look into her emerald-green eyes
or hear her satisfied purring
lying on her blue blanket,
spreading her comfort in every corner of the room.
Never ever again
will I feel her noble head
rubbing against my arm,
as lovingly
as only she can do.
Because she's gone
and there's nothing I can do about it,
except for wishing that I could turn back time ...
In Loving Memory of Tigris
Copyright © Isabel Brattkull
September 22, 1986
