Tiny, soft pads tread heavily on my back.
It is nightfall, and you are seeking out a night place.
I wait patiently as you get comfortable,
kneading my shoulders like dough.
You are a stealthy, miniature masseuse
removing the tension of a hard day’s work.
The playful tap, tap, tapping of the night ritual unfolding.
Aroma of tuna in the air sets adrift dreams of the sea.
The ritual winds down and you settle in warmly.
I am lulled to sleep by your rhythmic purring.