A name that brings rain to mind,
washing fresh the air.

Clouds embracing night time sky,
moonbeams scattered there.

Winds that carry scents aloft,
having me breathe deep.

Lightening dazzling the eye,
memories I keep.

Snuggle in quilts soft,
or stand on the porch to watch.

Cup of hot chocolate,
in my hand, with foamy froth.

Lights out, candles lit,
there were times it gave a scare.

Each time I hear it,
the name, Stormi, takes me there.

There was a time when my oldest was young, we thought we were going to lose him.  It all started with recurring headaches he would have.  These headaches became more frequent and intense over a few months.  Next, tremors started to acompany the headaches.

After countless trips to the Doctor and many days of having to leave work to go get our son from school and help him thru these episodes, I blew a gasket.  I demanded a CT scan.  I think that the only reason the Doctor agreed to it was to shut me up.  But I knew in my Mother's gut, that these were not migraines.

The day of that CT scan, they had my son lie down on the table.  They injected a tranq into his I.V.  The CT started.  I sat in an area where it allowed me to see my son and hear the technicians.  At first they were very chatty with one another.  One tech said, "He is asleep now, we can proceed."  They spoke in general terms about this and that as the scan continued.  Then the dread words were said by one ...."Oh ****!"  the tech said.  After that, silence.  No more chit chat.  Nothing.  My heart dropped.

After the scan was over, I was told that I would be hearing from his Doctor in about 24 hours.

Two weeks later, I recieved a call from the Docotors scheduling nurse.  "Why haven't you come in to see the Doctor?"  She demanded.  I explained that I was told that the office would be calling me to schedule an appointment.  The she exclaims..."You need to get in here right now.  Don't you know how serious this is?"  
WELL I DID NOW!

Long story short, he had an arachnoidal cyst.  The left temporal lobe of his brain was not there.  In its place was a large fluid filled sack.  The pressure was causing all the symptoms he had.

After more visits and much gut wrenching, the surgery day arrived.

It went well.  He has a tube implanted just under the skin that runs from his skull to his belly to let fluid drain.

But the place I want to guide you to now, is in the Hospital room.

There was our son.  Lying in the big white hospital bed.  he himself, almost as white as the sheets.  his head bandaged, tubes everywhere.  In the room with me were two friends from work and our younger son.  Two years younger.  So he was 5.

As our son started to wake up, his first words were.."Where's my brother?"

His brother flew to his side.  "I'm right here!"  he said as he grabbed his older brothers hand.  Very weakly Jess was able to say   "I love you Mike."  Mike in turn said  "I love you Jess."

That was the one and only time I cried during the whole ordeal.

Jess made a complete recovery.  No Problems.  The rest of his brain had taken over the work the temporal lobe was suppose to do.  A miracle.

What I found so amazing was that I never once shed a tear during the lead up and the findings and the aftermath.  Not untill I heard those words expressed by my sons to one another.

Most children would want their Mother or Father at a time like that.

Nope!  My boys were joined at the hip, so to speak.  Those few words spoken to each other confirmed the special bond I knew they had, that has never wavered.

Beyond tragedy, there is a hidden strength that comes to the fore.
Strength to do what must be done, welling up from deep with in our core.


Fortifying us, pulling us up on our feet, when our steps falter.
Helping us to guide others, who are victims of the Assaulter.
Allows us hope, when there is none to be found, and sadness invades.
Showing us, with new eyes, that which will be our future and bright days.
It is that same strength, that lets us say our good byes to loved ones,
continuing on, keeping pride in them and our Nations Sons.
With it we embrace the blow that has been dealt us, making us stronger.
Defeat is never spoken.  We live with the changes and fear no longer.


It is our strength, that binds this Nation as one, above the cries.
For America may bleed, but we shall not ever lie down and die.

.....Not only do we grow numb, but resentful,
to the truths that we now know as lies.
Lies that glisten upon the floor  
within those shards of broken, reflective glass.
Glass and blood.
Blood which adds contrast, allowing splinters
to stand out in the starkness.

Starkness is in the clarity we yield when our thoughts
arrest our actions, before there are no "do overs."
Over the course of years, we watch in wonderment,
abject terror and denial, that which we have transformed into.

To see in the mirror the Gods honest truth of yourself,
and loathe it.
It is not anger that makes one lash out, to break the image which leers back with no
pity, no reason, no answers.

Answers we have plenty, truths, we have not.....

Hello,
    I would like to introduce you to a dear old friend of mine.
    I made his acquaintance by pure accident.  You might say, we bumped into each
other.  Oh, silly me.  You thought I speak of an actual person.
   No.  I hold here in my hands, a diary.  Not just any diary filled with day to day
frilliness of a Victorian Lady.  But, a diary filled with.......
Well, I guess you will have to just wait and read for yourself.  I will just pick a page at
random to start out at.
    The Gentleman who wrote these entries, is a man of many facets.  He is kind;
frivolous; confident; an egotist. He can be filled with anger and then snap, just like
that, be his over the top self once more.
        He is death himself.  He is a Vampire.
    
Ladies and Gentlemen, I offer you a look into
              The Diaries Of Lord Kellington






Whispers of the dawn rush to meet me each morn.  They taunt and tease
me.  "Morning is not long to come.  Your time to play does run out".

Alas.  Tis true.  My time in the night is short.  So I must hurry.  Shall I prowl the night
as I?  Or shall I don a disguise.

Once I think on it.  Either way does not matter.  There will be no eyes.  None to see
after my "kiss".  So sweet and gentle that sip.

It takes just a glance and the other night dwellers know to avoid me.  They sense that
death is my shadow.  Why!  They couldn't be more right.

I will choose swiftly.  So that I may go dance.  Yes!  I love to dance.  Ah.  The night is
my stage.  Truth be told?   I love it!

~Lord Kellington




Hello,
I hope you enjoyed the first installment of Lord Kellington's Diary.  There are more to
come

Once a feral kitten, that hubby took pity on
Found in a scrap yard, to hubby, he did bond.

I carry jars of homemade jam, down the basement stairs.
He swipes at my legs, I drop the jars.  He doesn't care.
I'm straitening the bathroom drawer, he gets all frenzied.
Later on that day, I find, all the contents emptied.

I pick fresh flowers, neatly arrange them in a vase,
it only took few seconds.  There's petals on his face.
Our, brand new, leather furniture arrives, to our joy.
He claws the cushion up, looking for his catnip toy.

Christmas tree full of lights, with my antique ornaments.
He attacked!  Maybe he thought he was protecting us?

You might ask why it is we keep such a rascal cat.
Look at that innocent face.  I couldn't refuse that.
When it is, that we think about redecorating,
we just point and say, "This is why we can't have nice things"

Mom, I saw your face today,
looking down on me.
From your picture frame,
you had just turned sweet sixteen.

Even with that smile,
which always reminds me
of your baby girl,
our sister kristi Lee.

I could see that you were sad.
It was there in your eyes.
Your smile failed to reach,
eyes, blue as the sky.

I wish I had been there,
to be your best friend.
We could have talked for hours,
laughed away our cares.

I'm not speaking of,
just when you were in your teens.
But, when I was at home,
is what I really mean.

I know I can't go back
and fix my past mistakes.
But, I wish I could,
for, both our sakes.

Each time we hugged goodbye
and I was off to school,
your eyes smiled at me.
Why is life so cruel?

To make the Angels suffer,
to earn their wings.
Cancer stole your breath.
Yet, your soul did sing.

There's a loneliness in me without you.
But, memories of us remain.
At least I can talk to you,
in your antique silver frame.

Now as I look again,
I see the mischievous way,
your eyes enhance your smile.
Mom, I saw your face today.

I am a monster.

I could be nothing less.

I murdered for three nights.

I glutted on the blood of my victims.  Their throats torn away in my need.  Bodies left strewn in the gutters, alleyways and back rooms of the brothels.

Young or old.  As long as their souls were black and evil....I fed.

I cared not for their pleas.  As I did not enthrall them.  Their screams and fear sweetened the wine.  

I am covered in their gore.   Head to toe, I reek of the rotted stench.  

I have no idea the count.  Only the recollection of freedom!  I reveled in my glory and monstrosity.  I was overcome with the very nature of my being.  I was intoxicated by the moon and the mortal beasts needs.

Yet,  I sit here, quill in hand.  Waiting impatiently for the next full moon.

~Lord Kellington

So rare a soul, I found in you.
Grandpa, Dad.  To me you were both.
Salt of the earth, by those who knew,
you stood by your friends and your oaths.

My North Star, guiding my morals,
of fears, you were there to console.
Taught me life is color neutral.
Encouraged me to reach my goals.

Your heart, as big as all outdoors,
helping anybody in need.
Gave me the nudge, to learn to soar.
Your examples, planted the seeds.

Your one in a million, to me.
This world is less now, with you gone.
Of your counsel, I do still heed,
"Don't do it, if you think it's wrong."

A sweeping staircase is her stage.
mahogany and marble.
Dressed to thrill, a fashion plate,
your heart she will ensnarl.

Each step she takes is calculated,
to keep your eyes upon her.
With waistline tight and neckline low,
accentuating the lure.

Her dress does slip, down behind her,
like a river, flowing red.
A sultry pout worn on her lips,
her eyes, promising her bed.

Perfection, there, before you now.
Yet, there stands an obstacle.
There's no chance, for she is just an
airbrushed, magazine model.

Crystal is once again, up the draperies.
She has a veritable path of claw marks
leading from the floor to the curtain staff.

I have decided to ignore her when she does this.
But, as she is lurking behind me, atop the draperies, it is not an easy task.
At any moment, I expect her to pounce.
Ah!  Like father, like daughter.... in a sense.

I realized tonight that I excel at being a Vampire.
never a drop goes to waste.
Never a witness spies me.  Not one that lives, that is.
Never do I go hungry.
Never am I bored, or boring.

Why only earlier this night, I went to the Ballet.
A spritely tune was played by the orchestra, while dancers ran hither and yon upon the stage.
I was dressed all in black.
Bland I know.  But "Society" demands somber dress
at the oddest occasions.

I have my own box, from which I enjoy my privacy, while enjoying the entertainment.
Oh, not the entertainment on the stage.
The entertainment of playing the gallant host to my next meal.

I wine and dine them.
Regale them with lively anticdotes.
laugh at the right moments.
Look regretful, when called for.
Show shock, when due.
Outrage, when warranted.

In the end, they leave my box and my company, none the wiser.
mayhap a bit wan and listless.
But, always grateful for a lovely evening.
They always blame their condition on the wine.
Ha!


~Lord Kellington

Perfection is but a day dream away,
I usually go there at least once a day.

When stress in my life gets to be too great,
I sit back, close my eyes, breathe deep and wait.

Slowly the scene behind my eyes does gel,
a scenario I know all too well.

Once again I am thirty-nine, pain free,
there never occurred this back injury.

Here in my arms I hold my first grandchild,
without pain in my legs and back screaming wild.

Then when she is two and yells "Gamma, run",
off I go, joining in, I'm having fun.

All my grandchildren can run up to me,
hugging me deeply, wrapped round my knees.

Piggybacks, peek-a-boo, tag and jump rope,
all these things I can do in my day dreams of hope.

My sons come up and give me big bear hugs,
I am able to reciprocate that love.

At our sons wedding, with my husband I dance,
without giving that cane a thought or a glance.

No scars across my front, nor down my back,
titanium bars and screws, I lack.

I can swim, twist, jog, laugh with life and bend.
I wish my perfect world, when I open my eyes, wouldn't end.

Fate always has and always will,
hold the deck and deal the cards.
The "House" has the advantage still.
In the Casino of life, play and play hard.

Play to have fun, yet , play to win.
Just keep this fact, as your haven.
No one gets out rich in the end,
best we can do is to break even.

We would be stagnant down to our core!
Where would the challenge be in life's game,
if we had all been cut out the same?
Our lives would be just one big bore.
No personalities to explore.
We'd just be another What's-her-name.
No imaginations to inflame,
no reason to open our minds door.

So sing out, Viva La Difference!
Go embrace, all of those silly quirks.
Of unorthodox, show tolerance,
within "The box", you weren't made to lurk.
To be unique is a preference,
it's what makes all humanity work.

Bound by soft red velvet bonds
                              souls across eternity
                                     for so brief a moments time
                                                        connect here on Earth

I am wondrous!
A sane person thinks me mad.
Ha!  But then again, the insane
will think I am sane.
I have fooled all of them.
I have even fooled myself.

Which is not easy.
Considering I am so intelligent.  Yes?
Last night the dancing was....Ahhhhh!
Given the company there.

A boring little affair.
I invited myself to.
Well,  up until Ansel swooned when
he spied a bug....dead...on his
half eaten cake.

All eyes were on him.
I can be such a Pixie at times.
He never saw me as I came
up behind and plopped the poor bug on.

Oh, but the music.
Exquisite to my ears.  I heard
every not.  Preternatural hearing
is such a grand thing to have.

Young Miss Silversmyte did come
to dance with me twice.
Such a lovely throat.  Had I not
eaten early on, she would have made
a sweet treat.

Oh, but how I danced.
Not a step was out of place.
I was superb.
Several dance partners I had.
Why.  They were waiting in line.

I think I am drunk on my
own grace and powers.
The sun is coming.
"Tis time for me to retreat,
and sleep the sleep of the dead.
I wonder.  Do I dream?

You stand at your front door.  Looking down, you see horror.  You freeze in that spot as from under the door, comes the ****** seepage of carnage.

It pools around you.  As you push open the door and walk in, it makes a sickening squishing and suction sound.  The gore seeps into your sandals.

You know that you shouldn't, but fear also rules curiosity.  You walk further into the room.  Afraid that something is going to attack.

As you step through the room, you here an odd pop .  You gaze down at your feet.  There oozing over your toes, is the remnants of an eye.

Your throat starts to burn, as the bile rises up.  Your eyes lose focus.  You faint and slink to the floor.  You lay cuddled in the blood.

Upon your waking, you find yourself soaked in the blood.  It is gelled in your hair.  When you can finally stand, bits of raw flesh cling to your clothes and cold skin.

There before you are your freshly painted walls.  Covered in...someone.  It is then that you notice that you front door is now shut...and locked.

All you can think of, is the plumber that you had called in to fix you leaking kitchen faucet.  Oh no!  Is that a pipe wrench?

A noise from behind, has you quickly spinning around.  You see a shadow move.  It slinks in to the kitchen.  You give chase.  Stepping on entrails.

You had dreaded this.  You knew it would happen again.  There is no way to stop it.  There, like the last time,  on the kitchen floor is Diablo, your cat.  Daintily licking it's paws.  Looking very satisfied with himself.

You walk towards your little demon of a cat.  It stares back at you with eyes, green as jade.  You stand there, not knowing what to say or do.
As Diablo looks and says......

"Next time, order Chinese, O.K."



Ahhhh, I hope I scared you a bit.  This is my Halloween offering for Oct. 5th

Bwwwaaaaahahahaha

We set it out, for all to see, word by word.  Like tombstones in a cemetery, bearing witness to
our thoughts.  Which allows ourselves, yet again, a brief respite from reality.  For within our
blood sings poetry.  Our tears cry its rythym.  Our determination its rhyme.  And within the
prose and verse we post, we relate to others like ourselves each time.  It was at that moment,
upon my first poem going out onto the net that I realized.  I am not that unique after all.

Crystal, my flea bitten nuisance of a kitten, brought me a little token of affection tonight.
I deplore mice.
Even dead ones.
Filthy buggers.

But, there sat Crystal.  Mouse at her feet, mewing at me.  As if to say
"See, I love you, even if you are a blood lusting monster of the dark."

I admit, she only mewed once.  But I am certain, that is what she meant.

So as not to hurt her feelings, I donned on of my least favorite pairs of gloves and picked the rancid vermin up.
But I drew the line of pretending to eat it!

I must remember to burn those gloves.

Odd.  The candle on my desk sputters.  There is a breeze.  Although the door to my lair was tightly shut.
There is only on other way in or out.  That would be the  small tunnel I dug for Crystal.  So that she may come and go as she pleases.
Ah.  But here rests my cantankerous little fiend upon my lap.  
The breeze brings with it a scent.  One I know all to well.  
Blood.
My lair has been breeched.
Time to hunt.

~Lord Kellington

Beside the rugged beauty of weathered peaks,
Pines and Aspens, from its shadows, speak.
They tell of era's gone and of changing times,
the coming of man and his God he seeks.

The tranquil lake, that gives life to all.
The changing colors, from Spring to Fall.
The birds that fly, the deer that roam,
from the mighty Grizzly to ants so small.

Beauty surrounds, if your willing to see.
God, need not be such a mystery.
He is there in the mountains and in your heart.
Nature, is His way, of speaking to Thee.

Love notes written on scraps of paper,
placed on a mirror or in a wallet.
A few vowels mixed with consonants,
sitting just briefly, on the palate.

Our years have seen missives of the heart,
lilting soft, as snow in the wind.
There is much more to our attraction,
that keeps passion burning till the end.

Just the touch of your hand upon mine,
does stir my soul, makes my heart quicken.
My first smile of each day does come,
with your soft kiss, as I awaken.

When our eyes meet, across a full room.
Distance dissolves, there's no barrier.
I feel the rush of heated message.
Of your every move, I become aware.

In the evening, when the lights turn low,
silently you draw me to your chest.
I would die happy, just to know that here,
for all eternity, I would rest.

I had gone looking for trouble.
I found it.
I had awoke in a sour mood.  Very unlike myself at all.  I am usually, always in good cheer.
Almost, always.
I was spoiling for a fight.
The need radiated from me.
Even Crystal could sense the difference in my demeanor.  
The flea bitten, sweet, craven coward.
After donning my new Peacock blue cloak, with the black pipping and carrying my gold tipped, lions head walking stick. I left straight away.
I walked for miles.  Ending up in the seediest part of the city.  The Docks.  
I aimlessly wandered the filth strewn, cobbled streets.
Passing many an Ale House.  
Finally, my preternatural hearing found the sounds of a fight.
Why, it was an all out riot.
Off I flew to join in.
Fists flying.  Daggers plunging.  Walking stick cracking skulls.  (that would be me)
What fun!
I held back from using my immortal strength.  I wanted to feel each time my fist met flesh.   To have to Pick teeth out of my knuckles.
One chap actually caught me a rather right smart jab to my chiseled chin.
Exhausted, the men crumpled to a heap.
Only I remained standing....and the fifteen or so Policemen watching the fray from a respectable distance.
I have always prided myself on being a law abiding, upstanding citizen.  As it were.
So, when they started gathering up everyone and loading them into the Jail Wagon.  I went along, as a lark.
What a buffet!
By the time we reached Central Station, I had sipped upon many a fine blood.
When the Police opened the rear doors of the wagon, I jumped down to the ground, tipped my hat to them and simply (to his eyes) vanished.
Preternatural speed can be so amusing, when used correctly.
By now, my description will be bandied about.  A well dressed gentleman ghost.  A polite wraith.  A handsome demon.  
I like that.  A Handsome Demon...very apt.
I am in a much better spirit now.


~Lord Kellington

In coals, low and tame,
dance the sparks spellbound,
just as moths to a flame.

Hear their dieing sound,
as embers speak low,
whispers, as death is found.

Rising from the glow,
serpentine, the smoke.
A slow, pungent flow.

The sky, it does stroke,
a lovers caress.
Hoping to invoke

The Goddess Pyralis

Stare into the fires flame,
against your mind it will wane and wax.
Watch the tendrils of smoke rise,
the lines between light and dark relax.

The glow reaches out just so far,
then sweet darkness reclaims her control.
It is there at that juncture,
where a mind can lose its self control.

One must not tarry there long,
at that gauzy intersection.
For that is where time and space,
bend and twist your eyes perception.

Shadows play along the walls,
blending to be an evil twin.
Remnants that were once familiar.
Even your silhouette will join in.

Shades prance with great joy,
keeping up with the flickering beat.
Your brain will scream "It's not true!".
Insanity is now complete.

I see thee in yon grey mist.
A swirling, beyond the pale.
When an errant breeze does kiss,
mixing the ethereal veil.

Mine eyes perceive human form,
my heart yearns that it be true.
Then, away, by wind is torn,
leaving memories of you.

Perhaps tears, within mine eyes,
did a time, confuse my sight.
Having me see only lies,
of a love lost in the night.

Murdered emotions sink deeper into oblivion.  Held captive in a tortured husk of defeat.  Their
shadows wait patiently for my last fetid breath.  Then they may be released.  For suicide is
close to me.  A silken whisper that glides among my thoughts.  A tiny shard with backwards
barbs, which rip the soul upon trying to evict it.  A deceitful promise of forgiven slumber, within
a pool of blood.  A quiet idea upon which I sit.  Icy tears chafe the skin of a hollow shell.  
Leaving acrid scars, seen in my mirror.  My eyes behold my Hell.

I don't believe it!
I, the blood thirsty monster
of every nightmare!
Who fills the night time streets with
a true evil unrivaled!

What am I to do
with a tiny white kitten?

It followed me home...truly.
A pathetic little thing.
Probably full of fleas.

I have to buy milk!
I have to buy stinky fish!
What else will it need?

It does have cute ears
and the tiniest pink nose.


IT JUST WENT UP MY NEW VELVET DRAPERIES!

It will not come down!
fine.  It can stay there and starve.
See if I care.

Now I have to go see if I even own a ladder.

My dinner is getting impatient.
He thinks that he is here for a job interview.
As if I have the needs of a butler.

Hmmm.  Maybe I will let him get
that flea bitten thing down
before I partake.


~Lord Kellington

The meaning of life,
holds no power over me now.
I wait here for death,
slowly losing the will to live.

Holds no power over me now,
the need to outlive my usefulness.
Slowly losing the will to live,
leaving behind an empty shell.

The need to out live my usefulness,
use to be my only intent.
Leaving behind and empty shell,
"Having lived life to the fullest"

Use to be my only intent.
But, I no longer yearn for,
"Having lived my life to the fullest".
It has no meaning to me now.

But I no longer yearn for
my life.  It has been taken away.
It has no meaning to me now.
Thought I understood it so well

My life, it has been taken away.
I wait here for death.
Thought I understood it so well,
the meaning of life.

I hold in my hand, a human heart.
A mortal heart.
A dead heart.

Yet, for the briefest of instances, I felt it beat.
That expansion of life.  The thump, that is music to my ears.
He put up quite a fight.
his will was strong.  I had to exert more than a mere thought of will upon his mind.
I had to concentrate as never before.
He was a new experience for me.
It vexed me.

He laughed at me in the end.  
Even as his own life's blood, filled my mouth and flowed down my throat.
Even as his heart slowed, he laughed.
He did not laugh when he saw his own heart in front of his cold dead eyes.

I will keep this heart to remind myself of my struggle with a strong will.  So as not to become to sure of myself and my prowess.  But, I did win.

A paper weight.   Or I could rest my quill within it, like a pin cushion.
It looks rather nice upon my desk.

~Lord Kellington

You are the cooling breeze,
which does soothe my fevered brow.
The sweet water, that does sate,
my parched views of the here and now.
So whispered, your words of love,
as to hear within the bower,
a poetry of chaotic rain,
falling upon the morning flower.
A moonbeam, which guides my night,
when unsettled, I rest not.
So gentling, to my mind,
when a calmness, I have sought.
All these things you are to me,
your very soul, these do impart.
Love brings new meaning when, so dear,
I am nestled against your heart.

Chase the sun in it's arc.
East to West, avoid the dark.
No matter the amount of light I keep,
my own darkness from within seeps.
To stain the brief respite I find,
deep inside my poetic mind.
From my thoughts to hand to pen,
onto  paper, then rewrite again.
Each revision a shade more grey,
all the colors bled away.
From a wound that refuses to heal,
taking with it my ability to feel,
anything but real anger towards ,
the world in general and what it affords.
At those times it's not me in print,
it's these eleven years in pain spent.
Pretending that I give a dang,
there are no apologies, it's now who I am

A Genie, I found, did offer me,
a few nice wishes.  In total, three.

Now, this was going to take some thought.
To rush into this, would serve me naught.

I mustn't squander this precious gift.
For never again, the top could I lift.

No need, had I, to wish for life long love.
My hubby and I fit like a hand in a glove.

To wish for riches, I would be a dummy.
To me, there is such a thing, as too much money.

Eternal life, would be really a waste.
Knowing my luck, I wouldn't age with grace.

It was then my wishes came to me.
Crystal clear. The results I could see.

My first wish is for man to see where he stands,
in the scheme of things, how he leaves his brand.

Next, I wish for the Earth to be healed.
Free of all pollution, natures beauty revealed.

Last that mankind would actually learn from its past mistakes.
Maybe then, Mother Nature, would quit raising the stakes.

Unerringly she always knows
when I need a hug.
Or a friend to sit calmly by.
Never does she judge.

I hold her here within these arms,
when the sadness calls.
Lays her head upon my shoulder,
as my tears do fall.

With her overflowing patience,
she accompanies me.
In public, as to seem normal,
not reclusively.

She alerts me unobtrusive,
when fear overtakes.
A gentle touch and eye contact,
tells me I am safe.

Embodiment of humanity,
this hero of mine.
She gives to me daily,
healing over time.

Although she isn't human,
she has done wonders.
Emotional Support Animal,
I couldn't "Live" without her.