An Ode to My Small Companion

you smell old and alive,
a warm musky scent…untouched.
how clean you are!
sugar-tipped and milk-brushed,
like a lullaby.

i see sweet meadows in your eyes,
and unknowing simpleness, and the
lavender desire for sunlit naps.

sometimes you hurt me although
you do not mean to.

you are small, small like an atom,
but your energy is barely contained,
like a rocket.

and when you press your tiny head
against my hand, your ears are
thin as paper and delicate.

you have been with me for years,
you are predictable and only you;
i know the dip between your shoulders
and your rough little kisses and
each sound that you have made and
will make as you launch yourself to new heights
but sometimes—
you are so alien to me, and i know
that if i cannot understand you,
i have no hope for understanding
anything at all,
no hope for even
understanding myself.

how i wish i could dream your dreams,
precious thing.