Eisenhower's Literary Magazine
June, 2003
Wake
As I lay there in the snow,
the snow streaming in my hair.
I see the dog that I once owned
coming from somewhere.
At first I wondered,
How did I get here?
But then some new questions popped up,
practically from nowhere.
Why had he gone?
and now where did he come from?
How did he know, that once again,
I was playing in the snow?
As I ask myself these questions
he comes clearly into view.
To show me that he has not changed,
while still saying "I missed you."
For a dog, he was quite cute.
As many once had said.
His neck was thick with fur,
that would seem to form a mane.
He always stood and walked with pride,
as many conseded people usually do.
Because we spoiled that dog, through and through.
I'm new at expressing this kind of
fantasy feeling,
but I'll give it one more shot.
Now that I see this second look,
I see it from my heart.
He's walking closer toward me now,
and wagging his bushy tail.
Showing me his blood-shot eyes
will always prevail.
His whiskers touch my face,
as he gives me one last lick.
Or should I say, the first and last,
I'll ever get from him.
As he gives me the first and final
lick,
I can feel his warmth.
That he's saying good-bye
and I love you very much.
And as he brings his giant head up,
to walk up to the clouds.
I can't help look up at the beautiful sight.
And at that moment,
after he was gone,
I spread my arms toward the heavenly sky.
Then I began to shout out,
and when I stopped....
I woke up.
By: AK
A Jar of Dreams,
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