I’m sitting by the back door pawing for her to return. It could be hours, but I can’t be sure. I’m sitting by the back door on the cold tiled floor. Is that key I can hear turn . . . I rest forlorn by the front door pawing for her to return.
Books by author Diana Coombes
I’m sitting by the back door pawing for her to return. It could be hours, but I can’t be sure. I’m sitting by the back door on the cold tiled floor. Is that key I can hear turn . . . I rest forlorn by the front door pawing for her to return.