My Worst Day

by Max Dinckmann
(Westerly, RI USA)

The worst day of my old age
was not hearing from my doctor
that I had cancer or that I would
be dead in a few weeks.
That would have been good news.
No; it was putting my dog,
the best friend of my old age,
to sleep, and feeling his small
body sink in my arms as
the weight of death settled in,
too heavy for his small frame,
the bright glow in his eyes
receding and diminishing into
that vast space of nowhere,
the door of his life closing quietly in sleep.