A little girl still calls your name,
since your passing, things are not the same.
The night you were taken is still so clear,
we still feel your presence as if you were here.
The firefighters did all that they could,
brave men with tears, smells of burning wood.
We are comforted knowing there was no pain,
since your passing, things are not the same.
This poem is dedicated to a little, white, frisky puppy sadly missed by all.