Cinnamon Loved the Snow

This is a piece I wrote in college about my dog that passed away my senior year of high school. He had been in my family since I was five years old. So, when he passed, it was hard. Especially for me.

I hate to toot my own horn, but as I was re-typing this from my hard-copy (there’s been two computers since I wrote this), I began to cry. I don’t know if it’s because I loved Cinnamon, my old dog, if it’s really that good a piece, or both. Let me know what you think? Enjoy.

Cinnamon loved the snow
All day he could lie
In the shadow of his tree
On a white winter day.
The little flecks of sugar
Sweetened his fur
A white outline of
His ebonies, sables, and creams.
He belonged there
Adding color to the clean canvas
Never moving
Always there.
So he laid there forever
Watching, listening, loving
Until something greater than him
Called to take him away.
Sometimes on a white day,
Or a blue, or brown, or green,
Look outside the window
And you can see
How much he
Loved the snow
For he is there
In the shadow of his tree.

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