That Young, Black Cat—She Needed Something

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That Young, Black Cat—She Needed Something


If only I had something new,
she thought, something adventurous
to do, like when the fields grew tall,
fields from which wild fowl fed and flew;
she, feline feisty and precious,
needed something or to climb the wall.
She walked over to the window pane
and looked out to the neighbouring homes
to where she hoped to find something
—something new, beyond the back lane,
rocky road, where she’d often roam,
to where her eyes would be wandering.
And when her attention was caught
by the towering shingled roof
sheltering the large corner store,
she at once decided she ought
to climb to its black peak as proof
of her worth to those who did her adore.
Through the yards one-by-one she went,
glancing around this-and-that corner,
over-then-under fences tall
till she stood at the wall she’d meant
to conquer, as a foreigner,
without any fear that she’d fall.
She looked to the two garbage cans
leaning against the wooden shed,
right next to the store that was so pink;
up she jumped, her feet and hands
reached the top by but a thread,
of no better place could she think.
Having achieved her noteworthy climb,
she gazed over to the swaying trees,
unaware that her hostess stood near;
at the bus stop, as passed the time,
the woman looked up, into the breeze,
and saw her pet feline who knew no fear.
Thus the feline had done something new
and not seeing her hostess’s stare,
she returned home fulfilled and content,
for from this day excitement she drew
and she thought again she’d climb and dare
those high places worthy of her scent.

Frank G Sterle Jr

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Re: That Young, Black Cat—She Needed Something

That Black Cat, She Invaded His Dreams


She laid by his bared feet
at the foot of his bed
though in his dream they’d meet
which they did in his head.
For this sleek black feline
she’d been in there before,
such she’d never decline
as that cat he’d adore.
A myth it couldn’t be
that her claws touched his toes,
as the dreaming did he
was about that she knows.
The dream she boldly caught
that night she did invade
was the dream she had sought,
the dream she’d long delayed.
Within, she placed her claws
upon his sleep-bound feet,
all performed with no flaws
then and there they did meet.
Though not feeling abused
by prickling on his toes,
he still looked down confused
at each five toes, two rows.
Naught of her did he find
in his dream created
though back to wakened mind
he saw her and stated:
‘Mimi! It’s you—you rascal!’
yet he still adored her
while finding comical
her response, a smooth ‘murr’.
From the thick mattress down
she landed, without woes,
as he said, ‘You little clown—
you leave alone my toes.’
Thought she, ‘Again we’ll meet
as you dream fast asleep
when the toes on your feet
from my paws you can’t keep.’ ■


Frank Sterle Jr