Paw Prints on My Heart

You know,

I still try to call your name
when I stumble in the door
frustrated and tired
in need of a smile, a laugh.

I still reach for your
soft, wooly, white fur
to warm my hands
in this frozen house.

I still feel your nose
nudging my hand,
begging for just one
more belly rub.

I still smell you –
the smell of grass and dirt,
and of the adventure
you always seemed to find.

I still hear you whimper
in the mornings,
eager to play
in the morning air.

I still see your eyes –
those pretty blues,
sometimes pleading,
forever defiant.

I still miss you,
and I always will,
because you left your
paw prints on my heart.

To my MalaPie, puppy face.
April 1, 2008 – July 8, 2010.