Rory

He looks at my intently; large, brown eyes wide.
The cold wet leather of his nose searching for
my sorrow I always fail to hide.

He walks his paws up my chest, his tentative stride
coming up to lick my tears, he tries to clean every pore.
He looks at me intently; large, brown eyes wide.

I’ve found that when I look at him, I truly swell with pride.
I know that when he’s kissing my sores,
my sorrow needn’t hide

because soon enough, I’ve laughed, I’ve sighed
and the wet on my face mixes with his tongue, “No more!”
He looks at me intently; large, brown eyes wide.

When it comes to fulfillment, I look to him as my guide.
Yes, he’s a dog, but his excitement whooshes through me like an open door.
Sometimes, the sorrow has already died.

His tail wag is my favorite; it provides
a reason to smile more than ever before.
He looks at me intently; large, brown eyes wide.
He takes away the sorrow I always fail to hide.