Valentine’s Day dreams

First an opossum crawls into our bed.
He’s tame, you cry.
Those are just love-bites.

Then it’s a long-haired white cat,
purring and snuggling.
Get her out of here, you groan.

I wake to a heavy snowfall,
the old dog statue in the yard
just a bump under the blanket.


Right after drafting this poem, I found out that Rachel’s (short-haired) white cat in London was killed last night. RIP Mario.

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2 Replies to “Valentine’s Day dreams”

  1. Thank you Dave. I’m more upset than I imagined would be possible in the circumstances. Poor Mario. He died, as he lived, a back-garden fighter. And thank you Jean. You too have (literally!) felt his embrace.

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