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Poem

He would find he cutest photo of cats dressed as Napoleon or Cher
Throwing them into contests that were always judged so fair.
I laughed aloud when I saw Queen Sheba or Astronaut Glenn.
Jon always found the cutest cats, many of them not a sliver thin.

We entered each other’s contests, and took prizes off each other.
Jon was a confidant, a friend, more affectionate than a brother.
His poems often rose to the place of gold, and I would give it a star.
Not knowing until the end that it was from Jon’s sweet poetic guitar.

Jon and I both had an appreciation for humor, and we liked cats a lot.
We put in HMs often, and my poems often slid into a winning spot.
Comments would get crazy as back and forth we would often go.
I really miss this poetic master, this contest holder, my friend Jon Coe.

He is in heaven now, surrounded by his cat, Zeus, the big meow.
He stopped to get him on the rainbow bridge's joyful brow.
He is probably reading these poems and loving them.
This poem is to say thank you Jon, now rest. Amen.

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