Faded Paw Prints

On the anniversary, I walk down the lane,

the air feels empty, a soft, haunting strain.

A neighbor’s new puppy barks, breaks through my haze,

reminding me gently of happier days.

You were the wagging tail, the warmth at my side,

a nudge at my leg, my shadow, my pride.

But time has a way of stealing what’s dear,

each echo a whisper, the past crystal clear.

I pause at the porch, your collar still hangs,

dusty and worn, in the memory it clangs.

Though you’ve gone on, your spirit still plays,

in the corners of silence, in the softest of rays.