Angel on Her Shoulder

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It’s just a hair, maybe
an inch or so long, not
perfectly straight
nor perfectly curved.
It’s of a shape and color
all too familiar to us.
It looks for all the world
like one of the millions
we swept, dusted and
vacuumed up for 13 years.

She keeps her photo bedside,
like her yearning to see,
to touch her angel dog again
after these three empty years.
This may explain the dream visit
they shared two nights ago,
but not the single golden hair
she found this morning on
the shoulder of the robe
I gave her last Christmas.

Sweetly spooky slice of life, for which I have not nor need any explanation, from the lives lived here.

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4 thoughts on “Angel on Her Shoulder

  1. Last year we moved my mother into a 24-hour care home and closed out her townhouse. I removed from the frames three cross-stitch patterns she had done; the most recent completed around 1968. Stuck in the tape on the back of one of the pieces was one of my sister’s long, blonde hairs. My sister passed away 21 years ago.

    Hugs,
    Mike.

  2. This one is very touching & personal. Memories do visit us, unaware & in way that always remain unexplained. Your lovely write has stirred a chord, mysteriously, mine _/|\_

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