What is great?

What is great?
Is it the ability to dominate every conversation?
Bring every tale of your achievements?
Fill the room with anecdote after anecdote?

Or is it more balmy and velvety?
With soft waverly outlines…
Extending many fingers into the sea…
There being no reason to extend them any further.

Great, could be endless scraps from the table…
Or when my butler runs both hands through my fur…
A misplaced leash…
Or the supply of grubs being greater than my demand.

I’ve got !

I think that you are great!
When I look at you I see soft watercolors of shells and the sand…
Sunlight against a canvas…
An example of how to hook my wagon back up to the stars.

I look at you and wag my tail with wonder…
I can’t understand why your happiness is so, on again, off again…
Somehow you keep turning your back to the sun…
Blotting out the light meant to fill your day.

Turn around!

I love you,

Annie