The dog looks around for our daughter
who, at 20, comes and goes
as she likes, now at her internship,
now at the beach, now at the gym,
now at college, now at the coffee shop,
just as she is meant to do at this age.
But the dog and I still remember her
as a 10-year-old holding a fuzzy
8-week-old puppy in her arms, smiling
as if nothing else in the world
could ever matter more.
