Metal memories

Rusty wire caught a bent dog tag,

dull metal letters, scratched and ragged.

Cold in my palm, a forgotten name,

a pet’s lost echo, a fading flame.

Dirt smudged the years it kept,

a silent story buried deep.

Fingertips trace the worn design,

a pulse of absence, sharp and fine.

The garden holds the metal ghost,

a memory I miss the most.

That tag, a weight beneath the soil,

a quiet knot of love and toil.