Beneath The Conversation

Wrapped inside a blanket of his own making,
beneath the conversation,
asleep, he uses the closest foot as a pillow.

Cloudy eyes have brought him to an island
where familiarity steers;
navigating by scent, he is blind to the loss.

Even if he cannot decipher the complexity
of our orchestrated voices,
his tail can still thump in accompaniment.

Day’s end finds him content, sprawled there
amidst pungent socks,
easily mistaken for a wool rug that sneezes.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: