A poem for my Buddy

She has gone for a walk.
I walk outside
aware that she has been gone for a short while
but wondering when she will return.

In the humidity of a June morning,
I look down our street, and
remembering that I forgot my glasses, narrow my eyes to find her.
At first I can't so I start walking toward the intersection,
    my soft, old man feet protesting against the pebbles and pavement as I go.

Then I see her...from a distance...
fuzzy in the morning haze
made fuzzier by my 60/20 eyesight.

She doesn't walk like a model or red carpet starlet,
but more like a child that has been turned out to play at recess
       ... but told not to run.
She is beautiful.

As she comes into view I remember the first time I saw her
and my eyes grow full as the fleeting thought that one day
     I will blink..
     and blink..
     and then she will be gone.

All the years in between blur together...
     Her hair brushing across my face...
     Glancing at her sleeping in the passenger seat...
     Checkbooks and envelopes...
     Arguing and apologizing...
     Tears, smiles and laughter...
She is beautiful.

But today, she crosses the street
and asks if "everything is OK?" and
"has she been gone too long?"
I practice nonchalance..
       a demeanor that I exhibit often, but poorly.
"Not too long..."