That Sound

A dog walked past today.

The tags jingled that same way—

the specific rhythm I knew,

the silver catching light, it's true.

My chest knew it before

my mind could settle the score.

Another dog, another time,

but this jingling, this chime,

was exact. I almost turned

to follow, almost learned

where it came from, almost asked.

But the moment had already passed.

The dog kept walking away.

The sound faded from the day.

I'm still here, still listening

for a sound that's glistening

in memory only now.

The dog's gone. I don't know how

to stop hearing it anyway.