Warm at my back, black Aberdeen
dreams his fourteen years
chasing - never catching
cat and deer.
Awake he seeks me if I
leave his sight.
Howls the agony of
my upstairs to his down.
His almond eyes
give the lie to a gentle way
companion in migraine
patient with children.
He cannot hear me
when I call – stares heavenward
for long spells. Smells better
than any dog I know.
I carry him upstairs,
set him on my bed,
turn out the light.
Warm at my back, black Aberdeen
Goodnight.
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Published by
Cynthia M. Sheward
Cynthia Sheward has written poetry since she was a child. She was born in Massachusetts but spent her young life in New Jersey. She applied her English degree from Arcadia University teaching junior-senior high school in Vermont the 70’s. In the 80s, she and her husband built their own house with their own hands in the mountains of North Carolina. In the 90s, she returned to NJ where she worked for a Fortune 500 corporation until her retirement.
Her work has been published in Friends Journal, Evening Street, the Bennington Banner, Fiber Arts Magazine, the Mountain Times and various other print media.
She currently resides in Jupiter, Florida.
View all posts by Cynthia M. Sheward
A WELL TRAVELED HEART 
Love it. He sounds so sweet.
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So sweet.
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The love an old animal friend gives is unconditional and you have captured that in words.
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Thank you, Marti.
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Thank you, Becky.
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He was the best dog ever. I got him after my mother died. The whole family adored him – even Tyson’s wife (who rarely liked anything!)
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You’re welcome, Cynthia!
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