The biscuit (or “Ode to Harriet II”)

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Biscuit in hand

He turns to the door

Expectantly,

Head tilted, softly hooked finger pointing:

“Haait”

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I crouch, imploringly

Looking into his questioning face

Seeking to explain;

Words my only weapon against the searing sadness.

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See also: An ode to Harriet

See also: An ode to Harriet