A Cat Poem.

       My silver cat has velvet feet, 
            like the night


       She dances with mooncrickets 
         and plays with moonbeams
          like a wondrous child.


      Her whiskers, long and lustrous,
        she preens like a lady
                dressing her hair.


                      Pink nose pressed 
                  'gainst the window
          (steam from her breath obscuring my view)


               Her hand, pressed on the frosty
      window, like a child making a peephole.


         Outside, she grabs for snowflakes 
                 as if they were small birds
       and pounces on my shoelaces
                                  like mice.



      When we go in, I curled on my bed,
                                         she in my lap.
          Her feet are like velvet ice cubes
                                kneeding my knees
                                     as her engine idles.

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page