I don’t turn the lights on right away

 I don’t turn the lights on right away…

I like to let the night settle first.
That’s usually when you visit.

Right there —
where the moon kisses the rug
in a silver ribbon
so familiar it hurts.

I stare into the glow
and I can almost see you…
that sleepy stretch,
the slow wag,
the way your fur shimmered
like starlight found its home.

You were my nighttime safety.
My soft breathing peace.
My reason to love the quiet.

And now the quiet is different—
not empty,
just changed.

Because somewhere
in the hush of the dark
you still curl close to me,
not as fur beneath my hand
but as warmth inside my chest.

If moonlight
is the bridge between here and heaven…
then keep shining through.
Keep reminding me:
love doesn’t need a body
to be real.

I’ll look for you tonight,
my little beam of forever.