Old Tom
Old Tom
I've fed Old Tom
for many years
with never any thanks,
not one meow.
He comes at night
with eyes ablaze.
I crack the door
and slide a tin
of Fancy Feast
across the deck
toward him
like a puck.
He hunkers
on the railing till
I lock up.
Then he pounces.
The tin's a mouse,
you see,
and finally
it's time to eat.
Donal Mahoney
Copyright © Donal Mahoney | Year Posted 2010
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment