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Tsipie Sleeps Here
AC (6th August,1945 / Melbourne, Australia)

Tsipie Sleeps Here

Poem By Alison Cassidy

There's a native fuchsia
growing fiercely in the garden
where we buried her - near the compost heap
nearly eight years ago.

The mattock was leaning by the back door
when I brought her home.
'I've dug the hole.
I won't come down...
if you don't mind? '

I can still see the old towel
that covered her soft grey fur
and the pink petals
you'd scattered at the bottom of the hole.

User Rating: 4,3 / 5 ( 6 votes ) 7

Comments (7)

Once loved, never forgotten...... A touching write, Allie. Esther xxxxx
Sensitively and lovingly written, Allie. Like your other readers I, too, have a buried treasured pet....a small wooden cross will forever mark the spot. This poem did indeed bring it all back to me..... Love, Fran xxx
This brings back memories of how we buried our Chico - it's the same detail, the brown blanket in which I had wrapped him, his favourite, and the soft fur beneath this cover that always comes back when I think of him. What I find especially touching in your poem is what is absent, the 'you' that is only present in the things left behind, the mattock and the pink petals scattered at the bottom of the hole and so much more powerfully felt. Love, Magda
Our sweet, silent friends. They never really leave us, do they? I remember my Beau lying in the window dreaming whille I composed poetry. You bring the feelings back. Thank you, Allie. Love, Sandra
...and always in our hearts the dear litle soul
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