Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Hey Bud

Stay with me, please. Eighteen years of clash, comfort, purr-ball, heart, impatience, perfection does not evaporate with the physical absence of you, Spike. I see you still. I feel you near. My heart holds you as tight as ever. Wishing you bliss, as light as light as light as light.

Nobility of spirit, my Bud.