Thursday, December 4, 2008

Lewis

Lite air, his eyes are tired now. 
He snuggles up to me and blinks;
twice. 

He doesn't hear the keys, the way I do. 
They create a melody in my ear, and
to him, I think they are only noise. 

The tip tip tap of his paws on 
the tile, our hard house. His
restlessness, reminds me of
my own. He cannot find a 
place to rest unless I am
there, like you used to hold
dear for just me. 

He sits to guard me now, against
nightmares. It is as if I am floating
over the music and right into
your eyes, there waiting for
me like the end of a novel
or some well planned movie,
there, in the pause you wait
to catch. 

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