Charlie Is The Money

Charlie is the money.

Never worried,

All day through.

Jumping, licking, hugging,

Strong.

Not a care, my pup,

So true.

He does not seek,

A fancy bed.

A well-worn one will do.

One that smells of us, of love.

Does it smell of you?

It’s in his name,

This pup of mine.

A wish from her,

To me.

A wish for peace,

And for a song.

A song of memory.

A song that sings of rainy days,

Washing fear away.

Clearing to remember,

The sweetness that remains.

To wash the pain,

To clear the path.

For him, my pup,

To be.

Striding, smiling,

Nose held high.

He shows me,

He is me.

The wet ground parts,

Where raindrops fall.

They trickle through,

And through.

They start to pool,

Upon my feet,

And glisten,

Morning dew.

And Charlie licks,

The water drops.

Never worried,

Of the drought.

For him,

The only thought,

At hand,

Is where to rest,

His head.

For morning pets,

For walks galore.

Everything else,

Is dead.