Monday, April 12, 2010


O cat,
quite fat,
quite prone there
with naught a care
but to purr,
and clean your own fur,

and cause an unconscious fusion
that warms the sofa's cushion,
what's it like,
you bird-hungry tyke-
but you do not tell.

You never tell, never
even on the verge of it.


Terry Nelson said...

I have a really fat cat.

I will recite this poem to her.

Paul Stilwell said...

Excellent! :)

If she high-tails it out of the house after you recite the poem and never comes back, don't blame me.

But they never do that of course.

Gabriella said...

I think that's a beautiful poem!
You've certainly got a gift :)

Owen said...

Not a cat lover at all but this is a fine poem. :-)

Paul Stilwell said...

Thank you Gabriella and Owen. I'm glad you both like it!