Seventeen years they’ve been together. Longer than any other relationship he’s ever had. When they met, he wasn’t looking for anything new. Had all he needed.
He was lost as soon as he looked into those green eyes. Fell for that way she had of gazing up at him, head cocked to one side. Seems like right from the start she knew what he was thinking.
Evenings she curls up beside him on the couch. Shares his bed every night, lying easily beneath the weight of his hand. He strokes her fur soft as moonlight. She purrs from the corner of a mouse-filled dream. “We’re getting old, girl,” he murmurs. “Someday one of us will break the other’s heart.”
sawgrass
dew quivers on the edge
of a blade
worked in marketing communications with IBM and before that with one of the divisions
of The State University of New York at Albany. Her poems have been published recently
in Modern Haiku, Frogpond, Ribbons, Haibun Today, Contemporary Haibun Online,
and KYSO Flash. She currently lives with her husband and elderly cat in Cary,
North Carolina.
