While looking through pages and pages of my journals to compile my poetry book, I came across this poem that I wrote a couple years ago when I thought I had lost my best friend.  I had forgotten that I had wrote this and it brought back sweet memories.

The Paper Box

I looked down at the crisp sheet of paper.
I had written his name in cursive letters.
Whether it was superstition
or a sign of faith,
I slipped his name into a paper box.

My best friend had been gone for days.
Where did he go?
I didn’t know.
I looked far and near –
from the neighborhood to the parks,
I searched everywhere.

I longed to see his face –
his round little eyes,
his pink curling tongue,
his floppy, girly ears.
I wanted to hold him near.
I wished that he was happy.
Yearning for his return,
hoping and praying,
and continually saying
that he was “OK.”
Then my prayers were answered
and he came home one night.

Wagging his tail and full of life,
pouncing with all his might.
He was glad to be home.
We embraced him with our love.
He had been gone for a week.

His energy decreased
after the first night
and he refused to eat.
Skinny and starving,
looking frail and weak.
My heart ached to see him.
The poor boy was ill,
but I loved him still.
With tender loving care –
stroking, feeding, petting –
Slowly, but surely,
we nursed him to health.

Happy was home,
that much is true,
Paper box, thank you!