Charlie allowed death to overtake him today
he’d been slowing down anyway
his old ticker on the blink
arthritis in his legs and more
grey on his dear, dear face.

The old trooper staggered on.
out with me on this, his final night,
plodding, painfully, slowly,
through the spring grass:
him looking up at me,
me patting his broad, black back.

We were making our time last
as we said our silent goodbyes.