poem- pocketful

Sweet.

Shawn L. Bird

Old blazer.

I reach into the pocket:

A piece of plastic wrapper and a hole.

While pristine on the outside,

Both sides within are eaten through.

Instantly,

the ghost of an old dog is in the room with me,

the metronome of his tail slowly waving

while he looks away

to hide the twinkle in his eye.

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