The Cat Speaks
A quest to find the perfect spot,
A need to curl into a ball;
Closed comfort of a cardboard box or,
a vantage point somewhere atop?
Sure, your lap is a fine surface too,
prospective site for me to choose.
I am your elusive sleep;
I crawl to you when you count no sheep;
Offering my chin with grace;
Allowing you to discover sweet spots,
vibrating chords guiding you to slumber;
Like waves that ebb and flow.
Stretch. Yawn.
A slab of wood to keep me indoors?
No being holds my reins you know.
My curved claws gnaw at the window net;
Inviting pesky mosquitoes indoor;
Vocals unceasing echo all around;
As the sun appears and as the night falls.
Yawn.
Feather on a string? Fine.
With bored amusement I will chase;
My human can’t contain her glee.
Excuse me there’s a real crawly to stalk,
And a fly I see near the lamp;
With smouldering bright balls for eyes;
And wild wild blood in my veins.
Did someone move my scratching post?
A bit of drama can unfold.
Chicken for lunch, you say?
No thank you, I’d like some fish instead.
Read my tail and know me well,
lest my mood be misunderstood.
Stubborn at times but mostly cool,
a divine symbol of ancient times;
Beguiling you with my mysterious ways;
Whilst I drowse in a puddle of rays;
Licking velvet paws with half open eyes.
Perhaps planning the great escape?
My suspicious human I am here to stay.
Is the front door creaking open?
My curious paws gravitate again.
