Like every night she steps upon the porch
To hear the clack, clack, clack across the floor,
An anxious whine, tail thumping like a drum,
And then the yelp when she comes through the door.

She stoops to bring her level down to his,
Bent forward like she’d stooped those years before
To something less than honest, insincere -
Right there to pounce when she came through the door.

Her raven hair meticulously coiffed
Hangs loose against this tangled, matted fur.
The careful colors framing chestnut eyes
Can smudge and run now she’s come through the door.

He’d love her if she’d eaten all her lunch
And missed her morning spin, forgot her core.
The only thing that mattered was the joy
Her footsteps brought when she came through the door.

What freedom lives within the truth of love
As patient, yet expressive, she wants more.
A partner who can love without demands
And pant for her when she comes through the door.