Window Cat
This is one fine place for a stray....
Even if only for a one-moon stay.
No tight roping a burning fence.
No barkers belittling until I'm deaf.
The sun and shade treating me equally.
No red-hatted gnomes flicking daisies at me.
There're endless dips and nicks where I can hide.
Close my Egyptian Isis eyes and drift far away.
This is one fine place for a stray...
Oh yes.
The gray one reminds me of what I once had.
Good grub, rubber mouse, a good-hearted laugh.
A calloused hand to steady my midnight silhouette.
A wobble and sashay into that wildflower land.
Matter of fact, he once had a silky window cat.
Oh yes.
Lately he's been leaving tasty bits of food,
A rainwater bowl, a silly rubber mouse to chew.
But I'm much too gray for those kittenish games.
Maybe I'll give it a swat or two but only for his sake....
Oh yes.
Maybe, someday he'll let me in that big fancy shed.
Then I could rid myself of this purr-dicament.
Spend my final days in sweet, carefree opulence.
But trust is a precarious and most fragile thing.
Like a glass cat knickknack on the banks
of a dog-legged stream.
Oh yes. Oh yes.
Haven't seen the gray-caned one for many a day.
The raccoons cracked open my bowl of water rain.
The golden grass is bent and long overgrown.
Mr. bull thistle is kissing the Lady of the rose.
Maybe the gray one is searching both hi and low
for that mother of pearl in a forever home.
Oh no. Oh no!
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