I
saw a cat the other day. He stalked across the street.
We
stopped and caught each others stare. Oh what a splendid treat!
A
creature strong and sleek he was. A pleasure to behold!
The
look of youth around his eyes saw mine were getting old.
‘Come
have a little stroke’, I said ‘and play with me awhile’
I
muttered sweet enticing sounds to try to raise a smile.
But
he was having none of it. His look turned glazed and grey.
His
cupboard love awaited him. What need had he to play?
He
turned away. I heaved a sigh; the moment held in mind.
My
love at home awaited me to offer food and wine.
So
why have I the time for love while lovers scurry on?
Why
does the blossom in the trees love pollen in the sun?
