ONE DAY IN MAY

To the meadow's edge near the dense woods, we often came to play.  
This day we trod with heavy hearts, no happiness, just dread.   
Wheels caked with mud, we pushed and shoved the garden cart today.  
The content was wrapped in a cotton shroud, so soft beneath his head.

Myra Mae brought toys he had chewed, hoping to relieve our grief.
These past twelve years we came here often, so many memories we share.
Today, we bury him, and reverently say our goodbyes without enduring relief.
 Prince, our very special friend, we commit you to your eternal lair.

When Myra Mae turned four, her gift was one fur ball of joy.
 I would watch them run and play from the porch across the street.
Prince never tired. He loved to dodge and tease, mouth dangling a toy.  
One day he stopped, looked at me, and spoke in a whine so sweet:

“Can you come over and play?”  My shy response was a silent grin.
 Staring back, our eyes met, and we never looked away.  
With a sudden burst of energy, he launched up to my chin  
and slobbered kisses on my face. We bonded forever that day.
 
Our lives shared days of happiness and an occasional sad event.  
This day changed us forever when final crumbs of soft damp dirt
covered and tucked him in.  A well-chewed silicon bone was rent
and spread atop his grave.  Each piece that fell inflicted pain and hurt.

The sun came out and warmed our backs. Birds serenaded us from the woods.
A breeze stirred through the trees and delivered a sweet Mayflower scent.
 Myra Mae took my hands into hers and coaxed me to where she stood.
Entangled in an embrace, that day in May, I became  no longer innocent.