Lying in this bed that I’ve made, wrapped 

in arms and paws and blankets, I’m watering my pillows 

with mascara that I should have washed off before crawling 

in, but I never do. 

While I weep myself to sleep, 

for the third or fourth time this week, 

I hold my own hand and tell my mind it’ll be okay;

tomorrow is only some dreams away.

My cheeks are wet and warm, and I’m begging 

God to promise me that when He takes my breath 

away for the last time in this life, forever will find me 

in this same great company. 

As my eyes pull apart with the first morning light, I feel 

my dogs at my feet, and my love on my right. Bright and beaming, 

today is streaming in brand new, and my doubtful dreaming washing

away with the still falling rain.

How prideful I am, and truly blessed, to fret in this life about what’ll be in the next.