There are days...Sebastian
by Elizabeth C. Arguelles

There are days…when I still hear

the soft rain of padded footfall,

the brush of whiskered breath against my legs;

the rustle of furred countenance against the pane

there are days…

when your sweet, pungent scent

still lingers…

on linen, lap, my hair and fingers

no longer do I wake

to your presence, dark and deep;

my nostrils no longer breath you,

night brings nothing more than sleep

There are days…I still miss you:

in the silence of the bed,

the absence of your comforting weight, a living thing;

in the howl of the wind

unmatched by your voice;

the comfort of rain

without your soft warmth;

the cool of a morning

without your dew-dampened paws;

the heat of a day

without your languored repose;

This I miss of you my friend:

Of golden eyes and cocoa fur,

The song we sung

Of timeless days.