I love your soft, floppy ears
how they melt between my fingers,
like warm suede in sunlight,
soothing, gentle,
a rhythm I could play for hours.
You know it too
the way you nuzzle closer
when I stop,
tilting your head,
that silly, sweet face
that says, “Dad, don’t stop now.”
There’s magic in that touch,
how you lean in,
pushing deeper into my palm,
content, spoiled,
and I wouldn’t have it
any other way.
The others get jealous
paws tapping, tails wagging,
elbows nudging in,
wanting their share
of the ear-scratch symphony.
And I love them all,
my pack of fur-babies,
each one a heartbeat,
a comfort,
a warm body on a cold day.
But there’s something
about those ears,
so soft,
so calming
when the world gets loud,
I just reach for you,
twirl a fold of velvet fur,
and everything slows.
We watch TV like this,
it's called a cuddle puddle,
me and you and the others
a couch full of love,
but your ears in my hands?
That’s the win-win
I never knew I needed.
Copyright Malcolm Gladwin
May 2025
Dog Ear's