Sometimes I wait at the bottom of those dark stairs I sit at the bottom of the stairs I wait beyond the bottom of the stairs and listen to the sounds my wife and children make as they sleep the sounds our animals make as they step carefully through our dreams and out the other side to polished floor and cold window. Sometimes I wait so long I become unsure if I am asleep or awake or dead.
Our love was covered in fur yet I was the only one who wanted to pet it.