Waiting for the woman

When I start sorting through papers of my life, you have to be submitted to them. Here is a poem I wrote in 2006, when our dog was not a year old. Now he's almost 8 and still the same.

WAITING FOR THE WOMAN

Our dog--only ten months old--
a Puli (Bob Marley's hair walking)
climbs on our bed--our futon, actually,
and lays on the pillows, with one leg
and his head up against the window
that looks out on the driveway of our house.

I found him there tonigh,
Gazing out, looking for the woman,
my wife, who is away
at a birthday dinner
(God bless her....)

I asked him if he were
waiting for the woman.
And from his look, I knew he was.

Totally committed and obsessed,
riveted to the window,
watching, waiting, longing,
for the love she will bring to him.

And aren't we all--each in our own way--
leaning our faces against the window
of Life...watching...waiting...longing,
for Love not yet here
or present, still distant and away?