Cars go by.
Snow and rain falls.
Seasons change.
But through it all, she is there. In the same spot, everyday, all day, the watcher is there.
Her sleek black hair effortlessly flowing around her gentle frame. Her steely brown eyes note every passing vehicle, every falling flake of snow. Her ears are acutely tuned to hear anything out of place.
Her name is Daisy, and she is my dog.
They don't think I notice
They don't think I notice how stingy we're becoming:
They don't think I notice the reluctance to use the propane heat.
They don't think I notice how cold it is when I crawl out of bed every morning.
Dear World,
I am teenager. I am on the cusp of life, a time when my entire life is ahead of me yet I am beginning to feel as if some parts of it are behind me.
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