Emma

This all started through procrastination. This morning when I couldn't sleep I was looking at Sunday Scribblings, thinking I'll get in there early and do their weekly writing prompt. Well, this week's word is 'Treatment' and nothing much stirred in the 'little grey cells.' Soooo I decided to look at last week's word, since I didn't then, when last week's word was this week's (got that? good, glad one of us does). So, last week the writing prompt was 'Wait' and I looked at a few other people's peices on waiting, and started thinking about it. And then I started thinking about things worth waiting for.
And then Emma, my 12-year-old, Chocolate Lab-bat cross, who can tell time, comes to me, wagging and expectant at 6:42 AM. Meal times for Emma are 7:00 AM and 5:00 PM, but she lives in hope. She lives in hope that I will ignore the curse of the digital time read out at the lower right corner of my computer screen and just FEED HER! So I caress her head, scratch her ear, look into those lovely brown eyes - and melt. For Emma the wait is over. And my procrastination, which has led to musings on waiting has led finally to a little poem about hope!

Emma sits
Beside the dish
Hoping
I will forget
That meal time is
At 7:00
Hoping
At 6:42.
But I do not forget -
I relent