Black

Black, sweet shy kitty-cat,
Who sleeps upon the swing,
Or in her porch-bed, curled,
But so alive for breakfast!

“Meeow! Meeow! Meeow!”
Wait till I open the door!
“Sure, sure, sure,” she purrs,
Bolting in for the bowl that’s hers!

Black loves Bob and Linda—
In the winter, when it’s cold,
Or at least pretends to
When she ducks in for a warm caress.

In the summer, well,
She still loves breakfast!
And yet, when Linda calls, “Black!”
Black’s eyes intensify
With quiet, shy, loved cat’s love.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s