Here we were this day five years ago.
Our hands all touching you,
As Odie kissed you with his cold, wet nose.
My fingers stroked your thick, wavy, hair,
which framed your face so perfectly.
My tears still fall in rivers,
their source in my wounded heart.
I want to beg you to come home,
but know you are already there.
Yes, you are at peace while I still suffer,
selfishly wanting you back.
There are times, deep in meditation,
I feel your breath with mine.
I know that you have gone beyond,
this dualistic world of samsara.
That you live on,
my Bodhisattva boy,
a dweller in nirvana.