Doorway 

She lies in the doorway 
as I get ready, 
not blocking, 
not beckoning, 
just being. 

A soft, golden hush 
between one world and the next, 
fur like warm light, 
breath like lullabies. 

She doesn’t ask for attention. 
She is simply the presence of love. 
The quiet grace of being near, 
not to be noticed, 
but to hold my heart.  

As I gather the pieces of my day, 
she stays whole for me, 
watching, 
Matching my breath, 
holding the quiet 
where love waits. 

And yes... 
this, too, 
is poetry.