Limp with love and joy, the cat plays shawl
As my spouse is writing his new book
With warmth across his shoulders, clawless paws.
Nothing moves except the hand and tail
Twitching in cat’s dream,miaows rebuke.
Limp in happiness the cat’s a shawl.
Males together,thought and work recalled
I stand in silence as I, greedy,look
Cat across his shoulders,paws and all
Each is real, the creative and its role
A sight creates an image rich yet meek.
Relaxed at last the cat play acts a shawl.
One amber eye now opens,mouth a-yawn
To be cat’s mother,I am sole recruit
The elongated cat’s in Newton’s thrall.
The trance breaks up,so I’m alone with doubt.
This empty room is theatre for the mute.
Limp with happiness, the cat still calls
From my love’s dear shoulders, gentle frail