Though moved just over the hill

no more than eight miles away,

the walk for Kody and myself

on our green-belted walkway

passing what had been your home,

now saddened because the warm,

funny, sometimes sad spontaneous

conversations between

we four friends gone now.

Though moved just over the hill

no more than eight miles away,

the spontaneity of an unexpected

glass of wine for my lady,

or vodka tonic for me

along with warm conversation

now gone.

Though moved no more than eight miles

just over the hill,

gone now the knowledge that those I so like

now further...

much further than a short walk

spontaneously fills my heart with sadness.

Gone now the knowledge

dear friends were but minutes away,

upon our beautiful tree lined walkway

for the patio door opening to their home

now shows but empty rooms within,

and this fills my heart with sadness,

sadness and loneliness.

Passing what had been your home

this morning, Kody, going to the gate

listening for, looking for Lexi,

and when no bark came,

when no little white dog came,

cocking his head, I knew,

my dog missed you,

as I do.

Our friendship will continue,

this I know.

But when most aspects of life

are planned,

friendly spontaneity: our conversations,

the glass of wine for my lady,

a vodka tonic for me.

I know our friendship will continue,

but now,

Though moved no more than eight miles

away, now, though: 

“Hey, we’re coming over the hill!”

you will say to us.

Or, “We’re coming over the hill!”

we will say to you...

But still,

The walk past your home

on any early morning

or any evening,

lonely to me,

so sad so lonely,

my dog's walk and mine

past what till yesterday

had been your home.