When I was a teenager, I had an Afghan Hound named Sadie.

We had matching hair,

That we would flip when asked to do something,

and I covered the margins of my notebooks with composites of us –

If I was a dog, or she was a human.

Old Love is like that, always in the margins of life,

Urging us onward, 

Knowing that that amazing ness of belongingness is possible.