The stuffed chair sat in the cold corner of the room
A prime spot when the day is young and the sun is pouring from the east
But as the day ages, the shadows lengthen, the air cools
It still sits there, in that cold corner
The dog positioned himself on the floor
In that patch of sunlight
That gained entry through the open door
And with every stretch and shake of his body
He moved a few centimetres, with the sun
The story began without much ado
Setting the pace to slow and predictable
The woman read aloud and the dog listened with eyes shut
Perhaps to better picture the scene set by the author
The story took a turn
The dog sat up
The tale heated up, the plot thickened
The dog gravitated towards the heat
Alert and captivated he sat with his eyes glued to the woman’s moving lips
That is when tragedy struck and all was lost
The book came down slowly
The dog found his head resting on her thighs
Her hands tired from holding the book up
Too rested on his long forehead
She let her fingers feel
Their pulse synchronized
And slowed together.
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