She looks like a lion without a mane,
except she’s very tame.
She doesn't bite but,
she puts up a fight.
She’ll claw,
and pounce,
maybe even hiss.
Once she accepts you as a friend
not foe.
She’ll cuddle and purr,
lick and drool.
Give her food and
she’ll love you forever.
feels like a brand new fleece coat,
sounds like a constant chirping bird,
except she’s a cat
and she says “meow”.
When she runs
she looks like a tumbleweed in the wind
like a big ball of orange fur
that accentuates sunshine and fire at dusk.
I guess that
she’s fierce because
her whiskers entale that
she is wise and a prowler
ready to scowl.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
I am from the wall,
from the generation of iPhones and makeup.
I am from the tight spaces.
I am from the mountains,
the cold clear skies.
I am from the long hikes
and green eyes, from the Herriot’s
and the Denno’s.
I am from the morning pancakes
and the late night board games.
From follow your dreams
and there are no monsters under the bed.
I am from the heavens.
I’m from New Hampshire and Vermont,
PB&J's and Mac and cheese.
From the parents’ divorce,
the Christmas mornings filled with eggnog,
and the birthday’s of grandma and grandpa.
I am from
home.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC