A poem with thoughts to Dennis, Timmy and their loving caretakers.
Do Donkeys Live in the Moment?
Give me a heart where there's no thing impure
Give me a Donkey's heart, that is grey, wise and old.
A heart who found it's eventual true home
With one special friend in Devon, all told.
They bore each other's little odd habits,
Wore them faithfully like a monk's robe.
Time may soften the rough edges of loss, alas,
Does the one left behind still feel
The pull of the past.
Does a Donkey live in the moment? I asked.
The moon's tears will come down from the sky
As it moves toward June,
Will things ever be familiar
Will they ever again feel like home.
As your friend watched your body
Fold on to forever sleep,
The night seemed to vanish...
I don't know if Donkeys live in the moment
But I do know they recall,
And the friend you left so silently behind
Knew in death's moment you were gone.
Will the Devon hills remember you?
Even as they proclaim sweet May,
A Donkey's lone bray will sound like a Temple bell -
Like the wind -
Calling in shades of sorrow for his friend.