Rusty Ring

The neighbor’s mutt, a frantic blur,

sends up a jingle, soft and pure.

Just once, the sound, it caught my ear,

and dragged a ghost from yesteryear.

That flat old circle, cold and worn,

a thousand scratches, slightly torn.

My childhood dog, a clumsy thing,

his tail a wag, his tag a ring.

I traced the name, a faded script,

where clumsy teeth had sometimes nipped.

A simple plate, so much it meant,

a love that felt like heaven-sent.

It’s been so long, the shame I feel,

that simple grief, it wasn't real.

Now just a jingle, down the hall,

and suddenly, I miss it all.