Last Gift

He looked to me, eyes beseeching,
A tired soul, not quite reaching.
His time had come to move along.
To ease his pain I must be strong.

A loyal friend, a quiet ride,
Who always showed a gentler side.
The time had come to say goodbye,
To let him go, and let him fly.

His youth was gone; he could not soar,
His body aged, his health so poor.
A final gift had I to share,
A quiet death with love and care.

Autumn Mann