She can’t speak in words,
But I know what she wants.

The day has grown long.
Little feet yearn for rest.

But she can’t sleep yet.
She needs to find her friend.

“Daddy will help you,”
I say as I get up.

“She must be somewhere.
Let me see where she went.”

We look in her toys.
We look under the chair.

Finally I see her,
laying with the laundry,

A light brown stuffed dog,
Lady without the Tramp,

My daughter’s true love

Joshua A. Woodard