this swatch I hold
this bit of fabric
the color of love and sacrifice
and the testament to the struggle of two souls
in time’s bitter unraveling
she and I were bound
like the threads here
in the construction of this cloth
I, the warp
She, the weft
neither could exist without the other
neither filament could lend its strength
to this tapestry
without the presence of its kindred fiber
yet when I stand here
in the silent reverence of this wood
and listen to the far off songs
of warbler and wood thrush
this singular moment does not exist just for me
though she no longer walks the wooded trail
beside me
I can feel her spirit here
close my eyes
and my ears can hear her breathing
her scent penetrates my canid nose
her heartbeat still pulses on my tongue
as her life runs
hot and wet down…