Wild Child

Oh, there is so much to give,
To hold, to live,
The merriment dancing in those eyes,
Eyes that speak of things,
Things I haven’t felt in a long time,
Like the warm presence of your head,
Resting lightly in my lap,
The unquestioning language of silence,
That none taught us,
Yet, we are eloquent as the summer breeze,
 It’s not always this quiet,
Sitting by the window,
With an arm around your neck,
I look at what you find fascinating in the dark of the night,
I hear dogs barking,
And the timber of your voice drowns out theirs,
I can’t help but smile,
You aren’t a big, black dog,
You are a wild tiger that I have raised as a child.