Slithering upstairs she passes me, soft bodied wonder
speedily propelled by an internal source, muscles unseen;
in the near darkness before morning rises...
Where are the banisters and how far apart, the carpet beginning,
padded paws instinctively memorized, stops and starts,
avoiding the most precarious break your nose spots...
Is it a vision she has in her head or just a return to cuddle
with my wife in the vacated space I left in the long marriage bed?
She'll never listen, look up or care, where I am at, on which stair.
Cats, tortoiseshell, Siamese, short or long haired, neutered or not,
have a hidden designation, a reason to rush or a desire to be...
somewhere or anywhere; but at this moment never with me!
30th november 2005
Author: Roy Schoenberg - Bay Shore, New York.