Poem for a young friend

The saddest thing

to hold a young life in your hands

and feel it ebb away.

To feel each bone, each dry brittle hair

powerless to stem the flow.

And to catch the look in dull eyes once so quick,

that says do not look for me here

for I have gone

beyond the touch of your hand,

and the tears of your heart.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

26 thoughts on “Poem for a young friend”

  1. Thank you Kate and David. The vet’s keeping him in overnight on a drip but she doesn’t hold out much hope. We’ll know tomorrow if the kidneys are definitively gone. Pour little beggar. He’s only four years old.

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