Burrs

How many winter walks
ended with burrs matted
in curly Wheaton hair?

How you wriggled
to escape the grooming;
how we laughed at
jokester antics?

Your spirit still fills
the empty spaces

I hear the jingle
of your collar, catch
a whiff of terrier fluff

Pull on an invisible leash
whenever I encounter burrs.

(For our former, cherished companion, whose memory still lingers. Image mine)

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VJ

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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