Cat
On
tiptoe,
I slink to
the open door
planning my escape.
Just as I make my sprint
for the outside, I am stopped
and scolded for my brash attempt.
Fates! Why must I be hapless captive
by the vexing mistress of this dwelling?
I wait until the night is sober black
to claim revenge for her abuses
against these natural instincts.
A fallen vase will rouse her
as she sleeps and in her
daze I shall tangle
around her feet
and she shall
sense my
wrath!
Copyright © Linda Alice Fowler | Year Posted 2023
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