The Stray

If I could write a poem about you, what would the subject be? And would the form be sonnet, or something far more free? You are so difficult to define, the fullness of your broad world compared to feral mine – like trying to compact eternity. For if I wrote, such a poem, exposing my deep feelings, the underbelly of my purring personality, would you play the petting part, the welcoming lap of loving sensitivity, – alas, no such cords to so express, nor a hand to ever use a pen, I will pass your window again... wondering of what might have been....