Updated: Feb 18, 2019
I've heard her in the midnight hours
That sibilant, mangy mouser
The felon of garbage-strewn alleyways
Crying in deserted streets
Poor girl, poor girl, seems like her world
Is consumed by strangers.
Does this skaggy mystery seek a home?
I know her heart so often loves to roam
Or does she dream of sprawling over
Plump silk pillows near the fireside
With hands to pour her milk warm
And softly stroke her head until she sleeps?
I've watched her pull her main street capers
Arched back to that officious town house cat
With fearless eyes, she pranced around in circles
Poised to pounce if it should come to that
Till restless padded feet carried her away
Forsaking all she thought she had to prove anyway.
Curious creature is this crafty feline
To live contented in her bare existence
Searching out a dry spot in a doorway
Huddled in a ball to wait the night out
Resting for the early morning food hunt
Her wanderlusting nature left untamed.