The Un-Named Stray
I am not a cat person - they just don’t fit my style,
But when that stray walked in my door – she decided to stay a while.
My door is always open, as I work in my shed in back,
She comes and she goes on her own whims – she is her very own cat.
I didn’t bother to name her – but I did put out some food
And refreshed her bowl of water – it’s the least that I could do.
She would sit and watch me working – cutting my carpenter’s wood
And chase the mice out of my shed – I’m kind of glad that she could.
I started talking to her – as I usually worked alone
And she seemed awful comfortable – making my house her home.
Seldom did I pet her - she stayed out of arms reach
But would rub up against my legs, down by my feet.
For years we tolerated each other – never getting too close;
Staying out of each other’s way – respectfully, I suppose.
I didn’t realize how attached I’d become – until that awful day,
When I cried all day and all night upon the death of that un-named stray.
Joe Flach
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
