waiting
he sits
counting
if he could
the intakes of air
when will she
when will he
be home
waiting
he sits
calculating
if he could
how the dark spot on the rug
grows longer
when will she
when will he
be home
waiting
he stretches
yawning
elongating the tenderness
trapped in his spine
when will she
when will he
come home
waiting
he scratches
reaching
wishing for a warm hand
caressing fingers
when will she
when will he
come home
the key jangles
he knows it will
listening
hearing its melody
as it plugs into the door
now she is
now he is
home
and I am
at the door
before its opened
how do you do that
she asks
he asks
my tail rises
home
waiting has got to be the hardest thing ever to do...
LEGAL COPYRIGHT DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE 8:26pm PST TIME/DATE STAMPED
FOR THIS POEM/WORK AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER
MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FRO THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD
