Hand In Hand

March 9, 2012
An old rabbit sits in the corner.
Its body weak from age,
its long floppy ears drooping
and a thin string that used to form its grin
missing from its place.
It’s coat now foggy from dust that has built up
hiding it in the shadows of the past.
The hidden memories and the deepest
love it holds are like a picture album
waiting to be opened, waiting for a fresh
set of eyes to bring it to life again.

The clock reverses, it’s a cloudless day.
a little girl with pigtails runs and runs
treading over grass and blacktop,
a soft wind blowing, sky bright as Heaven.
Her hand folded in a larger aged one,
and in the other, a white foot.
The floppy ears bouncing in the breeze,
its fur glistening, and soft pink mouth.
She looks up to a furrowed glowing face,
As they laugh together at nothing particular.
With her heartwarming friend, she’ll never let go.

Her braids are undone now, her stature tall.
Dressed in black, the room is somber.
Tear stained, she approaches the wooden box.
Looking down, she grazes her hand across
the cold cheek that used to feel so warm and soft.
She folds her hand around the cold palms
that used to hold hers. In the other the bunny
just as before, on that warm summer day
except this time
she must be the one
who is forced to let go.

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