a huge cardbox on the front porch,
not full of cashmere sweaters or socks,
new ski boots or a stash of great reads,
dog cookies, dog treats, dog, dog, dog
she's spoiled rotten, sleeping on the couch
only slightly raising her head to watch
me bent over carrying in her bootie,
then closing her eyes and settling
back into sweet dreams of dog treats,
rawhides and cookies.
if only my dreams came true.
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