Lonely Sense Of Belonging

Late evening. Cold. Lonely.

Background muffled traffic. Otherwise silence.

Waiting. Hoping.

Hoping for company. A brief encounter with my masters’ feet.

Door creaks open.

Happy voices speak to one another. Not to me.

Footsteps.

Then loafers. And socks. Unfriendly in my face.

I kiss.

Swiftly followed by sneakers. And again socks.

I kiss.

The feet move on. Leaving me cold.

And warm.

I belong.

And it won’t be long. Until they return.




















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