For my dog, Molly.

She sits
in the corner
head angled
towards the ground
as she tries to sleep.

A noise.
She peers up at the world,
a world that
she can barely hear.

Old.
She looks
sometimes
as if her days
are numbered.

But I can't.
I won't.
Let her go.
Not just yet.
Not ready yet.

Recognition.
Is bliss,
it doesn't happen
often,
but when it does
it sends a flicker
of hope
through my soul.

Please don't leave.
Please don't.
Please.