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That Young, Black Cat—She Needed Something

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  • That Young, Black Cat—She Needed Something

    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
    Last edited by FrankGSterleJr; 12-22-2015, 03:28 PM.

  • #2
    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