by Ed Nichols
I moved back into my parent’s house, after they
passed away. I had been gone for almost
The first morning, I walked out to the back porch,
watched a brown dog coming fast across the yard.
The dog looked familiar. Looked like Brownie.
The dog my daddy bought for me.
I gathered him in my arms. He licked my face and hands.
He woofed, like he used to, when I was ten years old.
I missed you my old friend, I told him over and over.
We went inside the house. To eat a good breakfast.
To catch up on things.
Ed Nichols lives in Clarkesville, Georgia. He is a graduate of the School of Journalism at the University of Georgia. A chapbook of his prose poems was published in April 2021 titled I Wish I Could Laugh. A collection of 60 prose poems was published in September 2021 titled Perfect Land. He recently published a collection of 24 short stories titled We’ll Talk Some More. Read his previous poem in Deep South here.