I
Honey, the brown one, isn’t eating well.
I worry, test her nose, it’s dry.
Test her nose again, it’s wet.
She is the skittish one, her big eyes,
The way she pads along right on my heels…

I thought to give them up, maybe one
Maybe two, but I have lost so many,
I have to have something to love,
And I could never so let’s wait and see,
The future is forming...finally.

II
And I doubt you can but I want to ask
To see where we’re at then, and if
You would, could you meet my daddy.
It’s not till mid-October.