Merlin the Magic Cat
She prowls regally like feline queen of nine lives,
the fat lady Lucy calls her Merlin, the magic cat,
as white as the first snow or the lovely lily.
Wherever she goes on her daily errand,
her company Merlin always keeps,
and every night beside her the cat sleeps.
Merlin climbs and sits on her broad shoulder,
or lounges leisurely on her plump thigh,
and caressing her, Lucy feels the magical charm.
As the lady sits on the sofa, knits a sweater,
the cat plays with the woolen balls,
enmeshed in strands, becomes a weird creature.
As Lucy strokes fondly her silky fur,
Merlin wakes up with purring melodic meow,
and walks up to the food bowl as if in a trance.
At night when all sounds subside,
Lucy sits sleepless alone in the dark,
senses the rhythm of the bewitched cat walk.
She doesn’t like people call Merlin a pet,
for she is her only child, the magical one,
she doesn’t care being called the crazy cat lady.
___________________
October 3, 2022
Contest : Merlin The Magic Cat
Sponsored by : Mystic Rose Rose
Copyright © Subimal Sinha-Roy | Year Posted 2022
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