Two girls who look like dogs.
Sitting on the other side of the glass door
With expressions that may be yearning
Or, perhaps, may simply be stares.
They come in when I open the door,
One heading straight for the water dish
And the other to the easy chair next to mine,
To curl up, place her chin on the arm
And slowly ease back into sleep.
Do their chests fill with love, as mine does,
When we share a room together,
Or are they just waiting for me to feed them?
We feed each other what we need.
That works for me.