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Her Fur and Her

Her fur used to fly. She used to fly. From the floor to the couch. Once she settled- We’d brush. For years, it was full and youthful. Then it was falling out in tufts, So we’d brush more gently. She was a little scraggly… Both her and her fur were becoming thin. We joked that there was nothing but bones under that fur. We joked. When we found her… We pet her as if there was a heartbeat underneath. We wanted to brush her one more time. But there was no need. The brush went to the back of the closet.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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Date: 4/28/2024 11:29:00 AM
Dear Angelica, the poignant and tender expression of your poem deeply touches my heart. Your beautiful verse brings me back in time not so long ago. A bittersweet tear-sparking gem. So sorry for your loss. Warmest wishes.. ~Susan
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