Fading Wintersong

Porch light hums, bowl sits in the dark,

Small pawprints on the rug where you used to park.

Window shows your shadow in the afternoon,

You curl up like a question under a thin blue moon.

The leash is on the hook,

your collar on the chair,

I set my cup beside you like I always swear.

Molly, Molly,

you keep the quiet here,

Molly, Molly,

I still feel you near.

Missing you forever, like the hush after a song,

Molly, Molly,

how do I go on?

Radio plays low, like the breath you used to make,

Sun comes through the curtains,

leaves the air half awake.

There’s a wrinkle in the blanket where your head would fall,

An empty lap that remembers every little call.

You’d snort at the thunder,

dream of far-off streets,

Now the clock moves softer where your heartbeat used to meet.

Molly, Molly,

you keep the quiet here,

Molly, Molly,

I still feel you near.

Missing you forever, like the hush after a song,

Molly, Molly, how do I go on?

If forever is a room,

you’re the warmth inside the wall,

If forever’s just a whisper,

you’re the softest of them all.

I talk to the small things — the toys and the worn-out

toy bone

— They answer with the absence,

and the house feels like my own.

I fold the evenings gently,

put your blanket by the door,

I tip the chair toward the window

where the sunlight used to pour.

Neighbors pass and they nod,

they keep a patient eye,

They know you liked the window seat and the slow lane sky.

Time moves like a river,

and sometimes I drift downstream,

But Molly keeps the quiet,

keeps us both inside a dream.

Molly, Molly,

you keep the quiet here,

Molly, Molly,

I still feel you near.

Missing you forever,

like the hush after a song,

Molly, Molly,

whisper my name along.

Molly, you are small

and everything I know,

You hold the quiet,

and I let the memory grow.

Missing you forever — slow,

gentle, true, Molly, my pug,

I’m empty and full of you.