May 4

    To our puppies

At the hotel. Fed,
run around, relieved.

The room is ours. Two beds
in which to sleep.

No rattle of collars
at midnight. Silence.

But I’m awake. Eyes
peeking through curtains

No one to listen. Nose
pressed against the window.

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Author:

A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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