top of page
  • Andre Lamartin

Apollo Was His Name

The radiance of the sun, a ray of light, a golden dream. He arrived a quiet morning, and only sunshine did he bring. Happiness for all times, a source frolic unrestrained. If joy could be personified Apollo was his name. Always by my side, in good times and in bad. A companion whose only desire, was a friendship that would last. He spoke silently with his eyes, with his tongue he would caress. With his voice he called “Attention!”, with his tail he said “I’m glad.” When food was on the table, was his presence always felt. Chicken thighs were too delicious; he could not resist the smell. His nose gave him directions, but his heart was in command. At all times a solemn order: before love, let nothing stand! He was a Hemingway for adventure, an intrepid captain of the sea. Exercise was his hobby, his life his family. For all my past transgressions, he was always ready to forgive. A love that made me wonder, what else did he have to teach? His toys a welcome distraction, his friends a pleasure to seek. He treated all with affection, a disposition that humbled me. What I crassly called prosaic, he wisely called sublime. He taught me to appreciate, the miraculous in life. Complexity is human, simplicity divine.

bottom of page