{"sf1_id":1713734,"sf2_id":"ynZ0dqMe","title":"The eighteenth whisker on the left is brown","author":"makyo","words":112,"posted_at":"2021-05-03T05:52:00.000Z","tags":["Poem","sonnet"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1713734-the-eighteenth-whisker-on-the-left-is-brown","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/ynZ0dqMe","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/5d/45/5d45f971-e2fd-4b68-aac3-25d3a3024659","description":"#16 of Poetry\n\nFrom Eigengrau: https://makyo.ink/publications/eigengrau","content":"The eighteenth whisker on the left is brown.  \n\u0026nbsp; I know this after countless nights awake  \nbeside you, watching every quiet breath.  \n\u0026nbsp; You puff your whiskers out on every yawn.  \nOn longer work-filled days, your whiskers wilt,  \n\u0026nbsp; exhaustion softening your features, sleep  \nexerting subtle gravities to lead  \n\u0026nbsp; you to oneiric seas and dreamlike sands.  \nI know this after countless nights awake.  \n\u0026nbsp; I know, I know, it's strange to watch you sleep,  \nbut when I can't, to know that someone can...  \n\u0026nbsp; at least it somehow lets me rest in turn.  \nWhen I lay beside your sleeping form  \n\u0026nbsp; I know there's rest to still be had for me.  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Poetry","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1710572-pale-she.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1713738-liminality.json"}}