Coming Home

Here she comes,
here she comes,
trudging up the stairs,
and I could smell her from the driveway
as her scent strikes distinction;
Without much control my body reacts,
pacing.
I’m pacing,
my legs tremble as the creaking of
the staircase draws nigh.
She fumbles for her keys that she drops clumsily,
carelessly,
into her over-sized bag;
a habit gone unappreciated after hours alone
surrounded by her invisible presence.
The knob is turning,
its turning,
and I pause in front of the door,
my adrenaline comparable to a rescuer amidst danger;
and still, I can’t help it.
Her foot steps in the door and I lurch forward,
her doting sentiments launching before she could even
appear fully.
Overcome in joy and what I know to be the truest
love, I let out a small whine.
She rubs the space between my ears before
grabbing the leash, attaching it
to my collar, and dropping her keys back into her
over-sized bag.

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