Poetry

Cats Are Not Allowed in Paradise

Sometimes we long for what we see

Photo by guvo59 from Pixabay

entering the garden
coffee cup mist wafts
as daybreak warms my face

the cast iron chair is cold and sturdy
the grit of dust polishes my legs
in pools of light, splashes of color engulf me

hot cocoa hues blend
in rusty roses while pink-yellow
climbers reach for the sun

lemon oil scents my fingers
from fresh-picked citrus on the table
in my personal elysian-field

soft meows at the kitchen door
reveal a tiny mournful face
imprisoned in the shadows

my heart softens to her plight
but my ankles must remain free
of the soft brush of feline fur

for cats are not allowed in paradise
vertical explorations into tall trees
will lead us to misadventures

and wild coyotes prowl outside
these solid stone walls
I cannot open the door