Puppy.
At the side of the road, partially hidden by the tall willowy grass.
In a daze, not fazed by the traffic of men.
And I am reminded of my babies.
When they were younger.
When they were a whiny crybaby
And I was their warm-patting bed.
I love how they splay their soft bodies on my chest,
Staring at me with that sleepy eyes
Cries wimpering down to hiccups
Lids fluttering shut.
I remember watching them heave up and down to my breathing
Waking me up with all that snuggling and licking.
Damn.
Who needs blanket if you have a litter?
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