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Writer's pictureStephen Kingsnorth

Kyle

We named her, my wife’s maiden name,

which startled father, when rebuked.

As puppy when the kids were young -

the toddler lifted by her head -

but she lived, sleeping under bed,

was deeply loved as loyal friend,

until cost medicine beyond reach.

I held her tight as reassured,

my whispered lies that all was well,

as vet performed what vets must do,

and children watched, so sad, subdued.

She slipped to sleep, a heavy weight;

I lowered her - we double wept,

for day of Princess Di’s cortège.

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