Barley, my old soul, my steady heartbeat.
You moved through life with purpose—
not fast, not flashy,
just enough to remind me
that peace is a kind of love too.

You didn't need excitement.
You needed quiet mornings, warm sunspots,
a soft glance across the room
that said: “I’m still here.”
And you were—
through every storm,
every season,
every hard day I thought would break me.

Now you are a dog with rainbow wisdom,
crossing the rainbow bridge without fear,
each pawstep a memory,
each breath a farewell blessing.

On the pet rainbow bridge,
I picture you lying beneath a tree,
eyes half-closed,
still watching,
still teaching me how to be still.

This dog loss is slow and aching—
like a familiar clock that has stopped ticking.
But I still feel your rhythm in my chest.
Still see your silhouette by the door,
waiting—not impatient,
just faithful.

In memory of my dog,
I light a candle each morning,
the way you welcomed the sun.
And when my journey ends,
I hope to find you there—
not running,
just standing,
tail swaying like time itself,
ready to walk beside me once more.