I awoke to the cat screaming,
jumping atop me, another jump
taking him further to the bed.
"Now he's had it," I thought,
"the old fellow is done,
something broke in him."
I roused myself, took him
up, looked this way and that,
deep into his yellow eyes,
tried whether any part of him
hurt when touched.
There was nothing apparently
wrong with him, as the hours
have confirmed; he sits there
smug and comfy atop a bag
on the bed as I write, and
the best I can fathom, from
where he spends his nights,
the direction of where he
must have made his jump,
is that the old bugger leaned
against the heater in his sleep
and woke thinking he
was burning.
08.04.2024
#Poem Poem #Poems Poems #Poetry Poetry #Verse Verse
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