Have I done something wrong? I ask him
As he sits in the middle of the room,
Defiance drawn on that resilient back.
But nary a muscle or whisker twitch
I call him, first by his proper name
Then, more pleadingly, by his diminutive
But nary a muscle or whisker twitch.
I ask if he would like his favourite dish
To be brought and placed within paw’s reach
But nary a muscle or whisker twitch.
I tell him how much I love him
And beg to know what angers him,
But nary a muscle or whisker twitch.
In desperation, I get up from my seat
By the fire to go to his side
But nary a muscle or whisker twitch
Before I reach him, though, he turns and leaps
Into my vacant spot, now warmed, and in triumph
Begins to groom himself, in silent victory!


© Pauline Dewberry (1997)

Published in: ‘Purrfect Poetry’ 1999

ISBN No:  - 1 901349 08 X (Soft back)

ISBN No:  - 1 901349 09 X (Hard back)

A Cats Prayer

Lead me down all the right paths,
Keep me from fleas, bees, and baths.
Let me in should it storm,
Keep me safe, fed, and warm.

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