Sylvia

You and your cocker spaniel
and when Erin passed, the spaniel
that you owned after her.

The dam and her filly who,
as a young girl, I would clap beside
the fence to see her run.

Once your husband passed
and you could no longer care for
the horses, you kept goats.

Two maybe three years ago
I was home and walked over and
found you remembered me.

Everything around you had gone
to the ground, except the plants
springing up from your yard.

As I grew into a woman you became
just Sylvia, living in the last home
on acreage in the neighborhood.

I sent a Winnie-the-Pooh card
the Christmas after I’d seen you.
No reply was received.

Then I dreamed of you. It happens
in my family when time closes; I will
check when I return home again.

(August 4, 2019)

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