On a Cat, Ageing
I love to watch you snoring by the fire,
ensconced between my feet. The heating’s on,
so bask in luxury, my little one.
That seized-up hip and generous spare tyre
mean you’ll not venture out. Those days are gone!
But when all else has fled, hope still remains.
Those twitching paws still sing the timeless song,
and in your dreams you’re limber, virile, strong,
cavorting lithely over sunlit plains,
pursuing sparrows one vast summer long.
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