Blind Hands

Blind hands sought familiar softness,
Reaching for the loved one
On the threshold.

Tears rained from unseeing eyes
As the hands ceaselessly stroked
Brown and white fur.

A tail still wagged feebly;
Though the body was broken,
The heart was not.

Broken eyes.
Broken body.
Unbroken love.

Fickle hope stood at that threshold,
Tied by gossamer thread to the small patient
Balanced between life and death.

Blind hands clutched ‘til the last precious minute,
Never ceasing their loving caress.
Then - “It’s time to go" -
And the tears flowed once more.

Hope got lost that night,
In a tiny body ravaged by evil,
And the great, noble heart was stilled.

Though fickle hope fled that night,
She could not steal
The joy,
The love,
The memories.

Broken eyes.
Broken body.
Unbroken love.

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