A bump under the doona,
there
to share
the emptiness.
My mute companion,
licking me
lovingly
over eight tangled weeks.
I listen to the wheeze
of her doggy breath
and drift into dreams
of trolleys and hospital corridors.
I walk her before dawn.
She doesn't complain,
but bounds to the door
to bark at the moon.
My faithful Ella,
watchdog without peer
lifts a paw quizzically
‘I'm here. I’m here’.
Alison Cassidy
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-bump-under-the-doona/
