A Gentle Soul
Listen to me read this poem by clicking below.
like a squirrely puppy, you lumber in
haphazardly scratch my thighs
eager to be up and near
lick my fingertips and stretch
now focused on my cheek
apologetically my hand a shield
while he addles up sheepish
afraid he might disturb
gently leans his warmth against and
lays his soft muzzle on my knee
aged eyes invite me to pet him
and so I do
I've always preferred the gentle souls over the aggressive ones. Don't ask me to explain my dating history. For breadth and depth, nothing beats the still waters once dived into.
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