Poem for Lucy

 

 

 

She pads around the house

soft as breathing,

floating in and out

of each surface of dreaming.

 

She is elusive,

a dark prayer ghost

a carpet of velvet.  She

barely touches,

keeping just away.

Her face brushes

the back of my hair.

 

She holds a special place

perched on the end

of a soft blanket draped bed,

purring contentment from there.

 

One must hold breath

to listen.

She speaks quietly,

only when necessary.

Still she rules

~ by dianeklammer on August 26, 2013.

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