melissaahowells
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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 Vote for this poem |
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