Tabby

Amy Bancroft

Sunrise, as golden as
honey – the one you run
up and down the stairs for
to catch a glimpse of.
Sunrise, the same one you’re lying under,
a night after galloping under the safety of
the stars.

Quiet trills and a soft landing,
the sun rises and the birds come – the
morning brings the buzz of life again.

Stuck in traffic, but driving past, slow
enough to mourn you.
Someone, like a kind nurse, wraps
you in a bin-bag blanket.
Your soft but strong arms still outreached –
mid-flight to a destination now far
from here.
The pink hues of the sky part in
greeting.

I hope it was peaceful,
I hope it was quick.
I hope you saw the sun, as the stars
said goodbye.