You were not pet, nor beast, nor name.
You were the rhythm of my days,
The silent keeper of my flame,
The one who knew my wordless ways.

No shrine. No stone. No final bark.
Just absence shaped into a form.
The leash still hangs. The field is dark.
The wind returns, but not the warm.

I do not cry. I do not speak.
I walk the path we used to share.
The grass is high. The gate is weak.
The world moves on. I’m still there.

You were my friend. You are no more.
Yet every step still finds your paw.