The Passing

• Rebecca Browne, Grade 4
• Poetry
• 2009

The smell of oily dog fur
swims around my room.
And who's lying
on the old broken couch downstairs?
But Jessie.
Her eye sight going with the years
while her heart continues
to beat like a pup's.

Every day is the same to her.
She lazes, she eats,
she barks, she snaps.
My heart,
her heart
in a lock,
an unbreakable bond.

I look up to her.
She is like a spirit.

But all living beautys will come to an end.
Her's was a sad, lonely departure,
but I shall never forget her.

I'm her's,
she's mine
and our little mudbrick house
is still her territory.