Four Furry Feet

May 9, 2018
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It is the only one who listens to me. I am the only one who rambles to it. Four furry feet with glossy brown eyes and a blanket of fur. Four prints left behind amongst the others here. Four little marks leaving a trail to the unknown. From my window I can barely see it, but my gut tells me to let it wander.

 

It’s love is unconditional. It grabs onto it’s victim and attaches. It lets out nothing but yelps, but expresses so much more than that. This is how it lives.


If one was to sit in darkness, absorbed in the dark spirits, it would be the shining light just waiting ahead. Lick, lick, lick, I squirm. But all seems better.


When I am alone and quieter than a whisper, when I feel as small and delicate as an ant, I have my reason to smile. When I don’t see anyone in this crowded world. Four furry feet are standing right next to me. Four who wander but always return. Four who are meant to be by me.






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