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.