You Cat

 

You are my furry wonderland, you Cat.

No continent’s as rich or rare as you, Cat.

You are a landscape of soft undulations

all moving and shifting as you do, Cat.

Sometimes I run my open hand all along 

your belly or back, tracking through Cat.

Our else I will touch my forehead to yours

and you bump yours against mine too, Cat.

When you gaze at me, giving one slow blink,

I know that is your love for me on view, Cat.

In distress you may look ferocious. At times, 

predator, a ferocity in your aspect is true, Cat.

In this picture, you sit straight up, attentive,

fluffy yet menacing – towards, I ask, who, Cat? 

You have lived with me now in many forms

over the years: black, tabby, sable or blue, Cat.

You continue to live with me, in presence, in

remembrance, and in my reverence for you, Cat.

NaPoWriMo Day Eight.

We were invited to look at pictures from The Museum of Bad Art, and also to write a love poem in the form of a ghazal. I love to play with that form! The final verse is supposed to include one's own name or a reference to oneself. As lovers of Shakespeare know, Rosemary is for remembrance.

The particular cat image from the Museum, which I used for inspiration. (Scroll down one row.)