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A wagging tail,
a slobbering tongue,
wooden floors and thick Persian rugs,
the melancholy sound of a trackling waterfall

Cream couches,
patterned cushions,
A hypnosis of red swirls intertwined,
the wagging tail still going strong

Contented greed,
with dusk's advent,
the sunset incomparable, enchanting,
pours flaming earth through the window

Sung and still,
privileged reverie,
a utopia of security sings to me,
cooing and calling me to go home.