Distant, Past, Close Memory

July 22, 2010
By goody BRONZE, New London, Wisconsin
goody BRONZE, New London, Wisconsin
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

In the front yard at 9:30 a.m., I was barefoot playing fetch with my dog Merlin. The milk hauler was loading milk from our farm.
I was only seven

I watched Merlin joyfully run to get the ball. While Bringing it back, he stopped to watch the milk hauler go to the last stop before coming back down our road.
I was only seven

I watched as Merlin ran after the milk truck, softly I said, “We will continue our game of fetch when he comes back,” like so many times before.
I was only seven

I found myself screaming for Merlin to get back to the yard, he stopped, looked at me, then continued to run. He had done this before. The next thing I knew, I was down on my knees, tears escaping me like a broken levee, screaming Merlin’s name as he lay in the middle of the road motionless, lifeless. That was the last time Merlin and I played fetch.

I look back to when I was only seven

In Loving memory of my best friend,

The author's comments:
this is a true poem it actully happened to me

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This article has 1 comment.

on Aug. 25 2010 at 9:13 pm
wordnerd54 SILVER, Sparta, New Jersey
6 articles 0 photos 80 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia." ~E.L. Doctorow

I'm so sorry that this happened to you!  The worst part was when you said that he had done it before and you thought he would come back... It was very simple, but still very good; I really liked it.

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