The Shuffled Pack

We came together, when by youth we were led
and loved to play and had no tear to shed.
There was too much joy in my head
and now the pack is but dead.

We grew up together with nothing hidden, everything shared:
plates, rooms and on one poor, cold night: even our bed.
Often seen breaking rules, we all did carefully tread
and now the pack is but dead.

One fine day our paths did separate in their stead.
Few moved away, for they had to earn their bread
each to his passion and promises were wed
and now the pack is but dead.

For the day we all may meet, my conscience does dread.
As we will look into each other’s eyes unrecognised. Instead
we shall all walk away with hearts of lead
and in our hearts there will be no memory: not a shred

The dogs are alive and lead their detached lives well-bred
but now the pack is but dead.

Dogs on the other side of the fence
This week’s photo prompt is provided by Yinglan. Thank you Yinglan!

Melancholic. A piece of my mind for the friends with whom I am no longer in peace.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers Week (July 5 – July 11,2015) – 165 words.

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