You’ve made my radio Your gentle hand again. In my internal vision You are before me, hands in mine, your forehead pressed against mine, my tears streaking your smoke-gray fur.

All this hurts so very much, but here You are, and the radio plays Your song. You sing, and I sing with You, and on I travel.

One thought on “

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s