She moves like a shadow,
quick as a thought,
but I call her Kameko—
a stillness I’ve always sought
in a world that asks her to rush.
Meko, she knows herself
in the way she watches me,
in the soft tilt of her head
that holds a thousand words.
I hear her before she speaks—
a glance, a shift in her paws,
and in that silence,
she is everything.
To them, she is just a dog—
a creature of instinct and need.
But to me,
she is the sun,
a spark that burns quietly,
a love that doesn’t demand
but fills every corner of me.
In her gaze,
I see the world we’ve built,
where she doesn’t need to be anything
but herself—
and I love her for it,
for the way she fits into spaces
that weren’t meant for anyone.
She wears no leash inside,
no collar but the weight of her love—
and here, she’s everything we need,
as steady as the earth beneath her paws,
as wild as the wind she chases