she wears the purple, he wears the blue
they dance across the oak floors
like ballerinas in pointes, delicate
high steps followed by delirious dashing
across carpets no longer tethered to
the ground, folding upon themselves against
sofas and chairs, stoves and tables
that i disentangle one by one from
the leashes, picking up one
blue bootie to replace onto a brown paw
before shooing them out the door into
the bitter cold, returning to my coffee
and newspaper to enjoy the quiet morning.
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