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  • Writer's pictureVerda La Rue


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.

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