Goodbye 2021

Goodbye, dear 2021 –

the time is near that we must part.

Though some declare you weren’t much fun,

there were ways you warmed my heart.

It’s true I was a trifle lonely

early on – but that was not

the COVID isolation only,

but being without a live-in cat.

Then, in March, sweet Poppi came

to save me from my cat-less state.

I needed a feline, she a home.

‘A match made in Heaven,’ says our vet.

I couldn’t travel far from home

to visit family interstate,

but there were Jitsi, FaceTime, Zoom.

No hugs, but at least sound and sight.

I didn’t find the rules too hard –

the masks, the check-ins, social distance –

but met with friends as best we could,

in ways that risked no plaguey mischance.

In truth, I’m something of a hermit,

welcoming lots of time alone.

Therefore I rarely sought a permit

to border cross outside my zone.

I learned a different way to shop:

deliverance by delivery!

Now I’m never going to stop

receiving goods this easy way.

The cinema I can live without.

I’ve got my big-screen smart TV.

There’s little need for going out;

my entertainment comes to me.

Staying in jim-jams all day long

is guilt-free now we all do that.

And comfort eating seems less wrong

when everyone is getting fat.

No hugs, though, 2021!

I’ll stand back here and wave at you –

then turn to meet the new unknown.

What kind are you, 2022?

Created for Friday Writings #7 at Poets and Storytellers United, where Magaly invites us to write a 'Dear 2021' open letter, in verse or prose.


The Cheshire Cat on Himself

 The Cheshire Cat on Himself

(with running commentary from human observer)

Mr Carroll (better known to me as Reverend Charles) forgot to mention that I am the breed of cat known as Burmese. We love to climb, are good at it, and unlike some other felines do not get stuck up trees and wail to be brought down. We like it high – and can come down when we care to, e.g. for food.

‘I’m agile, adept’ –

his feline smirk declares

from a lofty branch

It’s true that now you see me, now you don’t. I am indeed the disappearing cat – according to my whim (which means my needs). There are people who swear I dematerialise, then eventually re-materialise, appearing suddenly just when they are certain I have vanished forever.

where has that cat gone?

– oh! where did he come from?

he keeps his secrets

The Reverend got it right about my wisdom. I am the observer, through which I have learned much. Alice was an impulsive child, needing guidance. At least she had sense enough to listen to me, if not often the patience to understand what I was trying to explain. One can but try!

he slow-blinks riddles –
his air inscrutable

yet self-satisfied

What about my famous grin, which successive generations of artists always draw full of menacing teeth? Cats can and do grin with open mouths, but usually in fun. (Otherwise it’s a snarl.) Mine, while cheerful enough, was more of a knowing smile behind closed lips. And still more than that – it was an air, an emanation, a mood conveyed by my whole being. Of course it lingered, even after I removed my bodily self. 

this cat’s expression 

says he has mastered life –

others may ponder

Image  from Unsplash, by Alejandra Coral

Written in response to Friday Writings #5 at Poets and Storytellers United, where Rommy invites us to reveal the point of view of a secondary character in fiction.