Ohdee

We carried you home in a big brown box.
I was small and you were smaller.
My black n' white puppy, crying out next to me
in the backseat of our old red van.
We named you Our Dog.
I cupped your small body in my little hands,
Smiling at you in your big box,
I tickled your nose with my long brown hair
And you stopped your crying
Just as, years later, you tickled my toes
with your rough tongue when I cried.
We grew up together;
You grew old alone.

When I was ten, you bite me.
Our brother jumped on you from the monkey bars.
I forgave you the scar on my wrist
before you even begged.
A year later was the fever
that shook our brother late at night.
I held you tight as the sirens sounded,
locked in my room of pink.
We learned unconditional love together;
I learned to say "goodbye" alone.

I remember the first tumor.
I remember when you limped.
I remember the darkness in your eyes
And the first time I called
but you did not come.
I hugged you because I knew.
So I immortalize you with my words.
We learned pain together;
You learned release alone.